Lady Jaye's Journal
by The Bard1
Summary: An intimate peek into Lady Jaye's life and thoughts...**COMPLETE**
1. July 15th

July 15th  
  
Well, here I am…pen in hand…ready to write. I can't believe I am doing this. I want to kill Psych-Out. Journal my ass!  
  
Oh that's right, Alison…now you are swearing on paper. Your mother is going to be thrilled.  
  
Anyhow…our resident shrink thinks that all of us need to get more in touch with our inner selves. Apparently this means putting our 'feelings' down on paper every night. Yeah, right…like that is going to go over well with someone like Beachhead. I can see it now…  
  
July 15th – Killed someone, made Jaye's life a living hell.  
  
July 16th – Kicked Jaye's butt on the obstacle course, shot two cobra agents…  
  
July 17th – Took monthly shower.  
  
July 18th – Killed someone.  
  
Oh…and Flint…there's one who is just DYING to talk about FEELINGS…  
  
No…I'm not going there…  
  
We are soldiers…we aren't supposed to feel. Just do what we are told and try not to get killed in the process. I can't tell you how much I hate all this psycho-babble. As far as I am concerned this is going to be an exercise in futility. If I need to vent I look no further than the door across the room. Scarlett might be harsh but she listens…well, she used to. Now she is off on secret missions with Snake Eyes most of the time…  
  
Not that I am complaining. That of course means I have the whole place to myself…  
  
All by myself…  
  
Alone…  
  
Ok..enough of that. I am not going to feel sorry for myself. This is the first night I have had off in three weeks. I am going to make the most of it. No COBRA, no Hawk screaming orders in my ears, no one trying to kill me…  
  
I wonder what's on TV? 


	2. July 18th

July 18th  
  
Oh god…shoot me now.  
  
For someone who spent her childhood sailing off the Vineyard, it's amazing how sick I get on these damn carriers. Must be the food…these squids just don't know anything about cooking.  
  
Look whose talking…Julia Child you are definitely not.  
  
In any case, I am glad to be here. It seems that Hawk wants me by his side 'advising' on this latest undertaking…it seems that my intelligence skills are finally getting the attention they deserve. It's a big career move for me, and to tell you the truth I am glad to be as far from the PIT as possible right now.  
  
Not that I am running away from anything…no…I'm just following orders.  
  
I wonder if Psych-Outs going to actually read these things.  
  
Ugh…my stomach. I had better go. 


	3. July 23rd

July 23rd  
  
Great, just great…guess what I am doing…PROTECTING DESTRO! I know this is important…I'm the one who advised this course of action…but it irks me nonetheless.  
  
Sigh*  
  
I shouldn't go into detail about our missions on paper. An Intel agent NEVER writes things down. Paper trails are dangerous things indeed. In any case, this thing is for keeping a record of our thoughts and feelings. If Psych wanted a play by play of my comings and goings he could read the briefings.  
  
Trans Carpathia is beautiful in a stark, creepy way. I just got off watch and am about to head to bed, but something caused me to pause. I can't really describe it. I just needed to stop for a moment and take in the landscape. Old forest and mountains…a lot of it untouched by humans for millennium. Incredible…  
  
It's familiar in a strange way. It's the same feeling I get when I am hiking through Scotland and Ireland…a sixth sense picking up what can only be described as the 'otherness'.  
  
You know, you would think someone with a degree in Linguistics could express herself better. I guess I am not used to writing things down.  
  
I'm of Scottish descent…from my father's side. Between the stories he and my grandparents used to tell me about the legends that surround the highlands and the time I spent listening to the tales told at the pubs in Ireland while attending Trinity, its no wonder I have such a vivid imagination. The folklore of both countries are rich and varied, and have been passed down from generation to generation though a vibrant story telling tradition.  
  
Fairy Folk, white ladies, tortured souls, poltergeists, malevolent phantoms, hideous creatures, old pagan gods…my mother used to scream at my father whenever he took me on his knee in front of the fireplace and began a tale. I was so young…she thought I was going to have nightmares…  
  
He would stop and wait until she had gone of to do whatever it was she did in the evening and then begin again…this time in Gaelic…a twinkle in his eye and a lilt in his voice, every gesture…every tone…bringing the story alive. I wasn't afraid…I was entranced…  
  
She never did understand me. Even then…when I was just a baby…she had no idea who what I wanted, what I thought, who I really was…  
  
My mom's side is pure American old-money, the ever so snobby ones you read about in books by Edith Wharton and the like. Believe me, everything you ever read or saw in the movies about Boston and New York WASP society is true….and the Harts were major players.  
  
It's a wonder I escaped with my sanity.  
  
Escaped.  
  
Funny I should choose that word with respect to my family…but as I said, my mother and I are about as compatible as oil and water. More like gunpowder and a flame. Put them together and you are asking for an explosion.  
  
You know, I haven't thought about her in a while. We don't really talk…not since I joined the army against her wishes. Not since my father passed on…  
  
Enough of this. What's done is done…I have written more than I intended, said more than I meant to say.  
  
I had better get some sleep. 


	4. July 24th

July 24th  
  
He's here.  
  
How the hell did he end up being assigned to this of all missions is beyond me. No…I know…he 'requested' it.  
  
Does he even know that I am pissed with him? Does he even care? He is acting like nothing happened.  
  
Not only that, he got me in trouble with Hawk. We were watching the castle, waiting for Destro's 'all clear' when Flint began to press my buttons as he usually does when he wants to test the waters…see how far he can take it until I loose my temper.  
  
Grrrr…I so wanted to wipe that damn grin off his face as he watched my CO ream into me like I was a raw recruit. Hawk however, did it for me…turning to the Warrant Officer and blasting him just as thoroughly. I turned around so he wouldn't see the smile of satisfaction that spread across my face…obviously not quickly enough given the glare he gave me as he passed by on his way to the vehicles.  
  
Believe it or not…the two of us have been what can be loosely termed 'lovers' for a good few years now. Although you would never know it looking at the two of us interact lately.  
  
Sometimes I wonder myself…  
  
Things have changed. I know they have…and I am sure he feels it too. Something has crawled its way between us, an unresolved issue that was brought to the surface outside a hospital in New York…one that has been slowly chipping away at our relationship…our friendship…bringing it down piece by fragile piece.  
  
Here he comes…  
  
Did he just wink at me?  
  
Oh NO! If he thinks he is going to charm his way into my tent tonight he has another thing coming.  
  
No way.  
  
July 24th , PM  
  
Just call me Alison 'Doormat' Burnett.  
  
I have no willpower.  
  
I am sitting here in my tent with Flint curled up next to me…out like a light. He showed up a few hours ago and using that trademark charm and a couple of other skills to break down my resistance…as he does every time.  
  
*Sigh  
  
Sex with this man is incredible. I have to laugh now, because if he ever knew that I thought that much less wrote it down I would never hear the end of it. His ego is inflated enough as it is, he certainly doesn't need me adding to it.  
  
For someone with such a gruff exterior…with such a braggart, exasperating, macho demeanor, he is a surprisingly gentle and attentive lover. That is not to say that we haven't had our moments. There are times when he has taken me roughly, with an almost animal-like urgency…his eyes dark and wild. I have to admit that it frightens me when it happens. I think it scares him a bit too, although he would be loath to admit it. For the most part, however, he is very tender and quiet….so different from the Flint I work with that even after all this time it never fails to astonish me.  
  
I have had other lovers. Some of them short and fleeting, some more long term. I don't remember much about my teen crushes…although I am sure there were a few despite the fact that I attended an all-girls school where access to the opposite sex was limited. Most of what I recall came in the university years.  
  
Did I 'love' any of them? Yes…  
  
Was I 'in love'?  
  
I would have easily said yes to that question before I left for Trinity to do my graduate work, because truth be told you don't really know what 'being in love' is until you actually experience the pain and the pleasure, the intensity, the helplessness and the pure joy of it for the first time.  
  
His name was Shawn McNally, a Philosophy professor almost twenty years my senior…which scandalized my family but I really didn't care. I met him in the library one day after class and he invited me out to a pub for a drink. The attraction was instantaneous…  
  
I lived with him during my time in Ireland, and I was happy. We had the same circle of friends, similar taste and much in common. He was handsome in an academic way…if I had to compare him to someone famous I would say he comes closest to Gabriel Byrne…and he was keenly intelligent. He was good to me.  
  
So…what happened?  
  
Heartbreak, what else…  
  
Even after all this time remembering the pain of that night brings a tear to my eye. I was in the last few months of my degree when it came to light. I don't know why I didn't figure it out sooner…the signs were all there. I guess its safe to say that I was young and naïve. Very naïve…or maybe deep down I knew but blocked it out so I wouldn't have to deal with it.  
  
You are probably thinking he was having an affair. God, I wish he was…it would have made leaving so much easier. He was faithful…and I know in my heart he loved me.  
  
No.  
  
What I found out one cold March night in Dublin was that my quiet Philosophy professor was a major player in the IRA. I begged him to give it up. I told him I couldn't stay with someone who worked with those 'terrorists'…but when asked to choose between his countrymen and a lover…well…there could be no other answer.  
  
Yeah…well…it took me a while to get over him but I did, and looking back I realized how young I really was then. My life has changed so much, I wonder if he would even recognize me if we passed each other on the street.  
  
There have been others since then, but all brief flings…nothing long-term or substantial. My mother had tried to set me with several pedigreed young men, 'good prospects' she called them…but I spurned them all much to her dismay.  
  
I wasn't looking for anyone. I think I needed time to find myself before I hooked up with someone else. I was content to be free and concentrate on my newfound career.  
  
That all changed when Dashiell Faireborn walked onto the training field and blew up my tank.  
  
As usual I find myself watching him sleep. He is so handsome…his body the envy of men…like something chiseled by Michelangelo. Every piece in perfect proportion, every muscle tight and defined…and he knows it, carrying himself with the arrogance of a prize athlete. His skin is soft and smooth, and although his hands are calloused from his years in the military, their touch is always gentle.  
  
His hair is getting a little long and is curling a bit at the ends. I can't help but run my fingers through it…although I don't want to wake him. His face is relaxed and his mouth is sporting a sleepy smile of contentment…a 'little boy' smile that no one would ever see while he was awake and aware.  
  
Did he just say my name in his sleep?  
  
Oh…  
  
He just drapped his arm across me and he is pulling himself closer, nestling against my side.  
  
And there goes my heart again…melting. God, what am I doing to myself?  
  
"Love has no place in the military…"  
  
Flint told me that once. Our line of work left little time for relationships. Long periods of time spent apart, regulations stalking every move, and the ever-present danger of one or the other getting killed.  
  
No…he was right…and at the time I agreed with him. Our relationship was new, and I was content to leave it at that. No commitment, just fun and mutual comfort, a friendship with a little on the side…  
  
Unfortunately, as time went on my heart had other ideas. 


	5. August 5th

1 August 5th  
  
I'm back at the PIT again. It's been a while since I have had the time to sit down and write. When things get 'hot' on a mission I rarely have time to for anything other than trying to survive.  
  
Psych-Out asked me about the journal during our session today. Before you go thinking I'm in therapy, all Joes have to visit him once a month as well as after every mission for evaluation. The military takes mental health very seriously, especially on our small team. It's a very stressful job.  
  
Anyhow…I told him I hadn't had time lately to add anything to it. From the look on his face I figured that was the answer he was getting from pretty much everyone. I've said it before and I'll say it again…soldiers aren't ones to get in touch with their feelings.  
  
Then again here I am, sitting under my reading light, scribbling madly.  
  
Who knew?  
  
So…today I went into town to go shopping with Courtney, or Cover Girl as she is known among the Joes. I enjoy her company, and she is probably one of the few people who can keep up with me once I hit the stores. She and I have very similar tastes…hers developed during her years as a model, mine through my mother who always wore the finest that money could buy.  
  
I admit it, when it comes to this type of thing, I am every bit my mother's daughter. Don't give me Old Navy when I could be wearing Ralph Lauren. A dress from Banana Republic will never do when Versace is within reach.  
  
Meanwhile, what do I end up wearing 98% of the time? My combat uniform, army sweats, jeans and a sweater. No Cole Hahn mules for me…combat boots are the order of the day.  
  
Oh how the mighty have fallen!  
  
Ah well…I made my choice.  
  
Courtney and I ended up having a great time as usual. I find it so amusing that my file states in so many words that I have trouble getting along with other women. Ha! I went to Bryn Mawr! You won't survive there more than two seconds if you don't get along with girls.  
  
Admittedly, I have always felt more comfortable around men. It's just easier to be with them, there isn't the constant need to one up one another.  
  
No. That's not fair. It isn't always like that, but I do think every woman, whether she realizes or not, is constantly comparing herself to others of her sex…vying with each other for a place at the top. Who is prettiest, smartest…most desirable to the eligible males. It's almost like something straight out of a Nature documentary.  
  
In the Hart social circles, you barely have to scratch the surface to find the bitter rivalries that float underneath. Survival of the bitchiest, my father used to joke…  
  
More likely, though, the mark on my file came from my first year in the army. I was so completely unprepared for the reality of boot camp that it caught me with my guard down. The woman in my 'unit' saw me as the weakest link and went in for the kill.  
  
Lets just say I do not react well when cornered.  
  
I'm off on a tangent again…what was I talking about? Oh yes…Courtney and shopping.  
  
We didn't end up buying much, which was unusual. We did however both see the most beautiful black evening gowns at Chanel. The two of us laughed over coffee after we left the store empty handed.  
  
We have both been covered in mud up to our eyeballs, trekked through mosquito infested bogs, been stained with blood and beaten black and blue…we are warriors. And yet both of us eyed those dresses like we were Cinderellas going to a ball at the palace.  
  
"You can stick us in cammies and combat boots, put a M16 in our hands and point us towards a rabid enemy, but you can't take the girly-ness out of us!" Cover Girl had said. Coming from the biggest tomboy I had ever met, that was quite a revelation.  
  
Come to think of it…has Flint ever seen me in a dress? Would he even notice if I fixed myself up one evening?  
  
He's off on a mission somewhere for an undisclosed amount of time…something called 'eco-warriors'. Left without so much as a kiss. Not that he could have done anything as he was called off so suddenly that we barely had time to say goodbye.  
  
That's the army for you. It's to be expected. Perfectly normal.  
  
Perfectly normal.  
  
Normal.  
  
Why is it no matter how many times I repeat it to myself I still can't convince myself that it is true…  
  
What is happening here?  
  
You know the answer to that question, Alison…you know perfectly well what is going on.  
  
Oh good…saved by the bell! That must be Red with the Pizza. She better not have put olives on it this time… 


	6. August 8th

August 8th  
  
Ok…I'm back in Trans Carpathia again.  
  
Protecting Destro…again….  
  
Never a dull moment on this team.  
  
I got the call while Red and I were munching on pizza and watching some old movies. Dial Tone had patched through a call directly to my quarters, and Hawk voice blasted though the line. He wanted me by his side again, asap.  
  
I slept on the transport plane out…which I have to tell you is far from comfortable…but you learn to get whatever rest you can in the weirdest places you can imagine…all so that you are alert when the battle finally comes.  
  
I remember once falling asleep curled up in a tree with Flint. I couldn't tell if he was amused or pissed that he had to stay up the whole time to make sure I didn't roll off the branch and end up tumbling to the ground.  
  
I just heard my name…hold on…  
  
…Sorry, Stalker and Dusty just arrived with the Brawler and some other heavy equipment. I had to help off load.  
  
When I mentioned that I heard them call my name, I should point out that out that out here I am not known as Alison.  
  
I'm Lady Jaye.  
  
Each and every member of the team is given a code name when they join GIJOE. Some… like Flint, Duke and Roadblock…brought their nicknames from their days in reg force with them when they joined. Most, however, are given them on their first day with the team.  
  
Usually, the names are to chosen reflect the soldier's specialty – Rip Cord is a paratrooper, Mutt is a dog Handler, Ace is a pilot…you get the picture. Others have code names that reflect some obvious part of their personality, look or history that is unique…like Scarlett whose code name came from both her long red hair and last name (O'Hara).  
  
As for myself…mine is a bit harder to pinpoint if you don't know me. Most people think that Jaye is like the letter 'J' for the javelins I am so fond of using…a fancier way of saying Javelin Woman.  
  
Not so simple…  
  
'Lady' actually is taken from my full name as it is on paper. Yes, that's right…I am Lady Alison Hart-Burnett.  
  
You see, the Harts had pretty much everything they could ever dream of. Money, power, prestige…but they were missing one thing to make their lives complete…one thing that my grandmother and great grandmother spent their lives yearning for.  
  
A title. A 'Noble' title.  
  
Sure, for some crazy amount you can purchase a title quite easily these days…and needless to say my family certainly had the funds. However, that was too 'vulgar' for the Harts. They wanted things done the old fashioned way.  
  
That's where my father came in. Lord Andrew Burnett…  
  
It was an arranged marriage if there ever was one…my father was quite a bit older than my mother and she had only met him on a few social occasions before the announcement was made. It was a business arrangement. The Harts got their title and the Burnett's were tapped into to a financial mother- load. Enough to maintain their estates for a long time to come…  
  
Can you believe it? In this day and age?  
  
That also explains why my name is hyphenated…Hart had to be associated with my title…so it wouldn't be lost when my mother passed on. I cannot TELL you how many 'heart-burn' jokes I put up with as a kid. Despite the official name on all my files…if you ask me my name I will always say simply Alison Burnett…  
  
Anyhow, I was brought up in what certainly amounts to a "quasi-Victorian" household. So 'Lady' means so much more than just the title. I was trained from day one to be the epitome of one. My grandmother was the worst when it came to this stuff…  
  
How to dress like a lady, eat like a lady, converse like a lady…etiquette was the order of the day. Posture, table manners, you name it…I know it…  
  
Is it any wonder I rebelled so early in life? It was like living in a time warp.  
  
Thank god my father was on my side, let me be a kid…run in the mud puddles and skin my knee…my mother was not as tough as Grandmonster Hart, but she expected me to behave properly.  
  
Boarding school was a WELCOME escape.  
  
Admittedly it was not all bad. I did get to attend some very good schools, and I never wanted for anything. I made some very good friends among the children of family friends. My father and I had some great adventures, traveling to many parts of the world at an early age. My mother was as sharp as a tack. She ran the household, volunteered at several charities, played the cut throat high society game like a pro, and ran her division of the family business like a well oiled machine…and basically was a pretty good example of a strong/liberated woman even with the antiquated thinking thrust upon by her upbringing.  
  
Too bad we were always at each other's throats.  
  
Very few people know about this side of me. I tried to keep it a secret from the other Joes but unfortunately, because of my grandmother's sneaky ways a few of the Joes clued in early on.  
  
I had told her I would meet her at the restaurant…but no, she insisted on having the driver come pick me up. I walked out of barracks to find quite a few of my teammates surrounding the Bentley. Before I could escape, the full liveried chauffer spotted me…and with a flourish opened the door with nod and a curt 'm'Lady'.  
  
It was so embarrassing. It was a while before the guys stopped bowing every time I walked into the room.  
  
Anyhow…so in spite of the 'cheeky' soldier you see today, in spite of the path my life has taken…what I learned early in life is still there. It probably permeates all I do, and I can really turn it on at a moments notice…  
  
The snob switch!  
  
And of course it comes on a hundred fold when I loose my temper with Flint and go, how does he put it, all 'hoity-toity' on him.  
  
Looking back now, I can honestly say that all those lessons I so hated have been pretty helpful. They lend you an air of dignity and grace despite what might be going on about you. It helps you remain in control under duress…and as my mother used to say…good manners never go out of style.  
  
So…you are probably wondering what the Jaye stands for?  
  
It was actually my original nickname from the army, and I have to tell you I was mortified when it was given to me.  
  
Remember how I have mentioned how unprepared for Boot Camp I was? Well, I wasn't kidding. The worse part was dealing with the rude and very loud Drill instructors. I had no idea how to react when these big men started shouting in my face…I had spent the good part of my life first among 'polite' society and then quiet academics.  
  
It made me very nervous…  
  
And in those days, when I got very nervous…I babbled.  
  
One day, one of the drill sergeants…Blake I think…had had enough of it and screamed at the top of his lungs in front of the entire company…  
  
"BURNETT…IF YOU DON'T STOP JABBERING LIKE A DEMENTED BLUE JAYE I AM GOING TO TAPE YOUR MOUTH SHUT!"  
  
From that day forward, everyone called me Jaye.  
  
I don't think I ever babbled again.  
  
Stalker is calling me again. I had better go. 


	7. August 11th

August 11th  
  
I'm scared.  
  
Terrified would probably describe it more accurately.  
  
Hawk and I are in Borovia, trying to make it back to 'friendly' territory after our ordeal in Trans Carpathia.  
  
Things are not good. The tension in the area is so thick you could cut it with a knife. The undercurrents whisper of revolution and civil war. I don't want to be here when things blow up. I know Hawk senses that something is amiss, but I understand the language…I hear what the people around us are saying. We are strangers…and strangers attract attention here.  
  
Negative attention.  
  
Especially American strangers.  
  
We are currently holed up close to the train station, waiting for an opportunity to get the hell out. I wanted to keep going, but Hawk said we both needed rest before continuing. I know he is right…I'm exhausted…but there is something not right here. My mind is screaming at me to run while we still can.  
  
Its times like these when I wonder what the heck I am doing here…playing soldier!  
  
I'm going to write something down here that I have never told anyone…it's the reason why I joined the army. If this gets out I don't know if I could face my friends.  
  
I joined the army on a dare.  
  
Yes…its true. Someone challenged me and I took the bait.  
  
It all took place in a coffee shop in Boston where I had gone to hang out with some old friends. I had been back from Trinity for almost a year and was pretty much doing nothing, trying to get my life in order and decide what is was I wanted to do for the rest of my life.  
  
I had been accepted by MIT to do my Phd under Noam Chomsky…an accomplishment in itself. My ear for music seemed to lend itself well to languages…I can now speak about 7 or 8 fluently…Linguistics and exploring the nature of 'language' on a deeper level seemed the next logical step.  
  
In the meantime, though…I wasn't doing anything. I pursued my acting hobby, taking part in some local productions around the Vineyard, even some 'Shakespeare in the Park'. People tell me I was quite good…but the spotlight never appealed to me. I certainly didn't want to do it for the rest of my life.  
  
Anyhow, I was pondering this when Julian…a very close friend of mine from childhood…started teasing me as he is wont to do when he is bored. To this day I still don't know how it came up but the next thing I knew he was telling me that I wouldn't survive a day outside of the 'bubble'.  
  
The 'bubble' is the term we use to describe that theoretical 'security blanket' barrier between the rich and 'the real world'.  
  
I of course told him in so many words he didn't know what he was talking about and the next thing I knew I was signed up for boot camp (as enlisted – couldn't go into officer training…that would be cheating). I was out to prove them all wrong…and in the process signed 2 years of my life to the army.  
  
Did I mention I was stubborn and very competitive?  
  
My mother nearly had a coronary when she found out…and of course threatened to disinherit me, but I would not be swayed. How hard could it be? I had the brains, and I was in pretty good shape…it would be a cake walk…  
  
Yeah right…  
  
Nothing can prepare you for the hardship, the humiliation…the sheer agony of basic training.  
  
Nothing.  
  
In shape…not a chance. Tennis, sailing and the occasional jog is certainly not 10 mile runs in the heat with full gear…running through obstacle courses with an angry sergeant on your tail…200 push-ups in the cold rain…  
  
Smarts? Advanced degrees don't mean squat when you can't figure out how to put your gun back together.  
  
To be brutally honest…I was the worst member of my unit. Weak…completely exhausted…and humiliated at every turn. I was about ready to give up. The others hated me and would certainly not miss me if I left…  
  
Then it happened.  
  
They tell you that in training like this the army breaks you down and then builds you back up into a soldier. You reach your lowest point, you shatter…and they put you back together piece by piece, making you…forgive the pun…all you can be.  
  
I hit that point…and suddenly things started to come together. The exercises weren't that hard…the drill instructors weren't as terrifying, the guns and other weapons were no longer a mystery.  
  
I was becoming a soldier.  
  
And when I get into something…I never go half way. I became the best damn soldier that unit had ever seen. I excelled at everything…and ended up besting some of my superiors on the field, causing a bit of a stir.  
  
After basic…I knew something had changed…I was no longer the skinny, uppity, Calvin Klein clad academic that came off the bus with her nose in the air…I was a warrior. I felt a sense of accomplishment I had never felt before, and I was part of something important.  
  
I loved it.  
  
I knew I could never go back to my old life.  
  
I continued my training…Airborne, Ranger School, I even learned to fly…which was surprising given the fact that I hate heights. I did Intelligence, where the analytical skills I applied so well in academia fit in perfectly, and all the while continued to perfect my skills with my favorite weapons.  
  
But my greatest skill…my true calling…was always Covert Ops. The combination of my language skills and my talent for acting meant I could blend in anywhere, become anyone…be invisible.  
  
After only a few years in the military…still a Corporal…the Joe team started sniffing around my records. The rest is history…as they say…  
  
Yet even after all I have done, after everything I have been through in the war against COBRA, I am sitting here next to my CO, a general of superb talent and skill who values my opinion and trusts me with his life…and I still have doubts.  
  
I still feel I don't belong. That I'm not good enough...  
  
He is asking me for my analysis of the situation. He is asking me to advise on the course of action…but does he know I am scared out of my mind that I will make the wrong choice?  
  
I am supposed to be tough! Everyone says I am a real wildcat in a firefight…if only they knew what usually went on inside my head before the shooting starts.  
  
So now you know…  
  
…I just hope I can get Hawk and myself out of here alive. 


	8. August 12th

August 12th  
  
We made it...barely.  
  
I am sitting in the back of a transport chopper en route to the USS Flagg. I am utterly exhausted, but feeling better than I had when we took off.  
  
The last 24hrs have gone by in a blur.   
  
Hawk and I had made it to the train and were about to board when we were both captured by Borovian Secret Police. I tried to tell them we were just passing through, that we posed no threat and were not here to get involved in their internal conflict.   
  
I got the butt of a gun to the head for my troubles.  
  
Hawk got a bullet in the chest.  
  
When I regained consciousness I took a moment to orient myself and assess the situation before realizing that I had to get Hawk out of here or he was going to die. With that decision my brain shut off and I went into survival mode.  
  
I don't know how I managed to do it, but I fought my way out of my captor's grip and got my hands on a weapon. Slinging the General over my shoulder I ran, the adrenaline was pumping hard as I shoot down the enemy left right and center. I knew I couldn't keep it up, Hawk was heavy and dropping in and out of consciousness...and I was vastly outnumbered.   
  
Things were not looking good, but I knew that they would have to kill me before I would give up. I would give my life to protect the man I was carrying, and I know he would have done the same if the roles were reversed. I went on about being scared that I was making the wrong decisions and putting the people I work with in peril, frightened that I will be unable to perform ...but I have NEVER been afraid to die for my friends, my team, my country.  
  
It didn't come to that, though. As luck would have it, we managed to find help from an unlikely source.   
  
A woman named Magda and a character named White Clown...both Borovian freedom fighters...led us to an old stadium where we were able to rendezvous with the other Joes. If it wasn't for their help, we would both be dead.  
  
I stood strong as the medic took the injured general...I calmly thanked the Borovian's for their help and accepted the praise of my teammates with a smile.  
  
But the minute I was alone on the helicopter, the minute I knew that Hawk was ok...I collapsed in a ball of quiet tears. The stress of the incident had finally broken through the barriers I built up in my head. I shook myself to sleep, waking up a few hours later when Wild Bill came to hand me the Satellite phone.  
  
It was Flint...who was back at the PIT and who was no doubt waiting for news, worried when he found out that my team was missing. How do I know? Because I have experienced his anxiety over me first hand.  
  
It was the first time I had ever seen Flint lose it.  
  
I was shot by a COBRA Agents at Dr. Appels home on Staten Island. The bullets didn't do anything but break some ribs and punch a whole in my shoulder thanks to a bulletproof vest (an article of clothing that has saved my life once before I might add). Thank goodness Roadblock was there when he arrived at the infirmary or he would have plowed down every nurse and doctor in the hallway in his rush to get to me. I heard the commotion from my bed in the triage unit...and I have to tell you it was really quite funny...I would have laughed had it not hurt so much to even breath.  
  
When he finally reached my side and realized I was ok, he quickly pulled himself together and began to tease me in his usual fashion...but it was too late. I had already seen through the barrier...I had already seen the terror in his eyes.  
  
Nevertheless, anyone listening into our conversation just now would be hard pressed to find even a tremor in his voice to indicate his fear. To someone who didn't know him...who didn't learn through the years to read more deeply into what he says...it would have seemed like he was unconcerned.  
  
Here are some snippets of our conversation...complete with translation from 'Flint' speak.  
  
"I hear you got yourself into trouble again Jaye...typical"  
Translation: I was really worried.  
  
"A bump in the head eh? Might knock some sense into you."  
Translation: Are you sure you're all right?  
  
"I leave you alone for a couple of weeks and look what happened."  
Translation: I missed you.   
  
"I wish I was there. I would have kicked some Borovian ass..."  
Translation: If anyone so much as touched you, I will kill them.  
  
That's Flint for you...nothing if not direct when it comes to his feelings for me. Sigh*  
  
Remember I mentioned that whole 'thing' that was coming between us?   
  
Well...this is it.   
  
I know we both agreed in the beginning to keep things loose. No commitments, nothing serious...but after, how long has it been? God almost 4 years...I need more. I want more. I know it's unfair to change the rules midway through the game but enough was enough. I tried to deny it for a while, tried to continue along the way things were, but then it hit me right between the eyes in New York.  
  
We were visiting Scarlett, who was lying in a hospital bed fighting for her life when Snakes went nuts and tried to take a swing at the doctor. Flint and I barely managed to get him outside to cool off...a grief stricken Ninja is not the easiest person to handle. He and Scarlett are very close, seeing her like that must have killed him.  
  
In any case, always one to keep his mouth shut...NOT...Flint started lecturing Snakes on moving on...blah blah blah...never regretting all the 'should have dones' like telling her how much you loved her.  
  
Well...when I heard 'love' come out of his mouth I froze. I realized then that I had never heard him say that word before...at least not in reference to me, and hearing it even in such a roundabout way opened the floodgates. The pent up feelings for him began to overwhelm me. I hadn't felt this way about anyone since Shawn...and yet this was more intense than anything I had experienced with the Irish scholar.  
  
I knew right then and there that I was in love with Flint...and it frightened me.  
  
There...I said it...I'm in love with him. That wasn't so hard...  
  
... Who am I kidding? Yes it was. I guess Flint isn't the only one having trouble with this. Grrrr on me.  
  
Anyhow, Snake Eyes is very skilled at reading body language and I am sure he clued in immediately to what was going on in my mind. He watched my reaction carefully before grabbing Flint by the shoulders and swinging him around to face me before walking off into the night.   
  
I smiled and tried to hide my anxiety with a quip about 'practicing what you preach'. But as we stood staring at each other in silence for what seemed like an eternity, I saw his eyes flicker in understanding and then soften. I could no longer mask my feelings...I was sure he was going to say something. I was sure he felt the same way.   
  
So I waited quietly for the words to come from him. I didn't want to be the first to pour out my heart. I didn't want to risk the possible humiliation...the hurt.  
  
It's a good thing I didn't too, because as quickly as it had come it was gone. Flint had turned and made some mumbled comment about crazy ninjas, gesturing for me to follow him back into the hospital.  
  
If I wasn't so completely discombobulated myself over the whole incident I probably would have walked off in a huff. As it was I was still reeling over my own self-revelation and could do nothing but follow him in silence.  
  
Nevertheless, the seed was planted...nothing has been the same since. And if this didn't lead directly to the incident in Sierra Gordo with Gorky I don't know what did...  
  
My Aunt Sarah...who was probably the closest thing I had to a source of maternal warmth in my family...once told me that you should never go into a relationship thinking you can change someone. You should accept the person as who they are and if you don't like it, move on.   
  
You cannot change a man to suit your needs. It is as unfair to them as it is to you. You would not want someone to pursue you only to find out they didn't like your hobbies, friends, hair...and wanted you to change. Why do it to someone else?  
  
She also used to say that no one was perfect...just learn what you can and cannot live with and love them for who they are. If you can't do that then you had better rethink your entire relationship.  
  
Do I want to change him? There are things that really irk me about him, his big mouth is high on the list...but for the most part he really is an amazing person. Such a complex character...so many layers...so much that you miss if you don't get past that negative first impression.  
  
Believe me, I know. I nearly did. But that's a whole other story...  
  
No...I wouldn't change him even if I could...but I do want something from him. Something that I fear will never happen and I will be forced to repeat the agony that I went through when I left Ireland so many years ago.  
  
I want him to let me in.  
  
I can't talk about this anymore. I'm too tired and I'm not thinking straight. In any case, it looks as though we are nearing the carrier.  
  
Yes...I see it.   
  
I had better go and sit with Hawk for a while. He is conscious and stable...although far from perfect. The medics have taken good care of him on the flight, but I am still worried. I will only stop once I know he is safe on board that carrier and sleeping in the infirmary.  
  
Stalker and Wild Bill say I am going to get a medal for this. I don't really care though...all I want right now is a warm dry bed and Hawk back to his old self, shouting orders in my ear.  
  
Deep down, I admit...I'm kind of proud of myself. 


	9. August 15th

1 August 15th  
  
Oh happy day!!  
  
I did it! I finally did it!  
  
I beat Flint at Squash. And oh boy did it feel good! Seeing the amazed look on his face was so worth the pain I am going to be in tomorrow after such an intense match.  
  
He introduced me to the game when we first moved base after the PIT at Fort Wadsworth was destroyed. I had loved our old command center, which was situated right near New York City. It was a full working military compound with all the amenities…so much to do when you had that rare time off. I used to go play tennis in my free time with some friends in the city. I wasn't a superb player, but I could hold my own. There was also a full marina, great trails for jogging…cafes, bars and shops only a short drive away…you couldn't have asked for a better place to be stationed…even if most of your day was spent underground.  
  
Well…after the COBRA invasion that destroyed it, the powers that be decided to move us to a more remote site. And when I say remote…I really mean the middle of nowhere. I cannot tell you the exact location, as it would compromise our security if my ramblings ever fell into the wrong hands, but I will say that we are well hidden…our headquarters deep underground.  
  
Unfortunately, spending most of your time in the endless artificially lit corridors and rooms, breathing in recycled and filtered air, can drive you stir crazy. Especially somebody like me, who loves to have the sun on my face and feel the wind in my hair.  
  
I think Flint sensed I was going a bit nuts and invited me to join him for a game one day. The PIT III isn't all stark and military. There is one level that has Squash and Racquetball courts, a full gym, a games room and, believe it or not, a mini movie theatre.  
  
Anyhow, I didn't accept right off the bat. For one thing I was just getting to know him better and I didn't want him to get the wrong impression from my accepting. He had stopped hitting on me as often (although he still got in some cheesy lines every now and then), and to tell you the truth I wasn't sure he would be the best teacher. He is not the most patient person in the world, and we are both very competitive.  
  
I predicted disaster.  
  
As is typical with him, he wouldn't take 'no' for an answer, insisting he would teach me, and that my tennis background would make it easy to learn.  
  
I finally relented, and found much to my surprise that not only did I enjoy the game, but that brash and impatient Dashiell was an amazing teacher…yet another facet of this complicated man that I had just discovered. We ended up playing together as often as we could, and as I got better Flint turned up the pressure, making me run around the court after the ball like a mad woman. He was a very skilled player and I was never able to beat him…  
  
Until today.  
  
I turned the tables on him but good. It was he that was given a run for his money. We both poured it on…neither of us willing to let up…killing the ball and pushing the limits of our game.  
  
As I said…I am going to be very VERY sore tomorrow…but so is he I bet.  
  
I even did a little victory dance in front of him to rub it in, not even pausing to consider that he is as poor a loser as I am a winner…but instead of anger I was rewarded with a grin and a shake of his head. His eyes flashed amusement…and something else, something deeper…but I didn't catch it as before I knew it he had grunted something inaudible and said he was hitting the showers.  
  
I spent the rest of my day catching up on paperwork in the office I share with about three other Joes (we are a little cramped for space). Other than my combat and analysis work, my duties also consist of the administrative nonsense that keeps the operation running smoothly. Personally, I couldn't care less how important it is, I hate it. I feel like a glorified secretary, but unfortunately I was 'volunteered' for these duties early on and have yet to find a way out of them.  
  
As I sat there contemplating the huge pile of personnel files waiting to be updated, I noticed something sitting on my desk. I have it here in my hand as I write this, and it is still bringing a grin to my face. It is a Squash ball, and taped to it was a little note from you know who…  
  
"To the victor go the spoils…see you tonight. -D"  
  
Well…it looks like he has just invited himself over again. And to tell you the truth, I don't mind. I could use the company. We haven't really had a chance to be together since that last night in my tent in Trans Carpathia, and though the 'common-sense' side of my brain keeps telling me to stop and resolve our issues before I jump into bed with him again…my more passionate, throw caution into the wind side is planning to jump him the minute he walks in…  
  
…and there is the knock at the door.  
  
It seems the latter side of my brain is going to win this battle as always. 


	10. August 24th

August 24th  
  
I am going to kill him.  
  
No…first I am going to make his life a living hell…and then I am going to kill him.  
  
I can see it now…next time Flint even tries to enter the women's quarters a voice is going to sound over the PA – "Dead Man Walking".  
  
He has opened that big mouth of his for the last time.  
  
You are probably wondering what happened…or in the words of the ever so perfect Scarlett 'I'm in such a great relationship with a man who has so many issues you don't know where his history stops and his personality begins that I can pass judgment on everyone else's like dear abby on steroids' O'Hara…  
  
…"What has he done NOW?"  
  
Grrrr…Grrrr…  
  
Hopefully I can write and eat at the same time. I have gone through one quart of Ben and Jerry's and I am about to start my second.  
  
God…I'm too old for this. I have a Master's degree from a prestigious university, I have traveled the world and seen things most people only dream of, I have lead troops into battle and killed men with my bare hands, and yet my personal life is shaping up to be a laughable parody of teenage melodrama.  
  
AGH!  
  
We were at Stalker's house. Yes…his house, not his quarters on base. It might surprise you to know that many of the Joes here have wives and families outside our little top-secret team. It isn't easy being a military family, but being the wife or child of a Joe is probably the worst. Away for months on end, in the line of fire more often than not, only the strongest marriages survive.  
  
There are a couple of divorcees on the team. They will tell you all about it.  
  
Stalker has managed to find a balance, and I think it has a lot to do with his amazing wife. She is one tough lady…runs her house with a precision and ruthlessness that would put Beachhead to shame. Stalker himself is a loving husband, from what I have seen of the two of them together…and he loves his kids.  
  
Kids…the reason I am here pigging out on ice cream…  
  
Anyhow, we were there for his annual barbeque, and as usual the place was filled to the brim with kids. Screaming, running, playing, fighting, crying, ketchup stained children.  
  
Its not that I don't like children, its that I don't know what to make of them. They are all little mysteries to me, I have no idea what to say or do around them. You certainly can't converse with them like adults (if have you ever tried to reason with a three year old you know what I mean), and you never know what the hell is going on in those little head of theirs when they stare at you with their small stunned eyes. Last time I held a child it screeched and screamed until I was forced to put it down. It quieted immediately, and the mother…a good friend of mine from childhood…told me it was colic.  
  
Yeah right…  
  
We were all sitting on the porch sipping our beers when it happened. Stalker, who had noticed me tense as his youngest crawled towards me, laughed and told me jokingly that he doesn't bite.  
  
I smiled uncomfortably and politely refused when he asked if I wanted to hold him for a bit. Then, much to my horror…Flint, who had probably had too much to drink at this point and surrounded by other equally drunk and testosterone filled friends, picked the baby up easily and placed it on his lap as if the whole thing was just as natural to him as throwing a grenade…then laughed and said the following…and I quote:  
  
"Don't take it personally, Lonzo…Burnett here is what you might call maternally-challenged. Biological clock kicked it years ago…"  
  
For the first time in my life I thanked my grandmother for the hours of tortuous training she put me through on how to be gracious and calm in every possible social situation. Mind you, I think Flint should get down on his knees and thank her instead, for it was her upbringing (and the child in his lap) that was keeping me from dumping my beer over his head and stomping off.  
  
The others laughed…finding this little revelation of his enormously funny. I excused myself politely and started to walk off when I heard him call my name…I think he realized as it was coming out of his mouth that it was wrong…but I knew he would never grovel or apologize in front of 'the guys' so with all the grace I could muster…with all the haughty snobbery I knew lay within me…I turned and quietly said the following.  
  
"Lucky for you it is 'broken', Dashiell, or I might have forced you to face that commitment-phobia of yours long ago"  
  
With that I left him with his mouth hanging open…his friends rolling with laughter.  
  
"She got you there, Faireborn" Stalker hooted.  
  
I was still in range when Roadblock, bless his sweet heart, blasted his friend for being an ass.  
  
Of course, Flint's response was a very macho, non-chalant "Ah…she knows I'm kidding, Marvin, she will just needs to cool off…"  
  
COOL OFF!!!! GRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!! I need more ice cream…  
  
How could he…even as a joke…HOW COULD HE? I told him in private…I never told anyone else. I trusted him!  
  
Now they will all think I'm some aberration…a woman who doesn't like kids! They couldn't possibly understand. If they had been raised in my household they would know why the idea of having kids terrifies me more than facing Storm Shadow with nothing but a toothpick to defend myself.  
  
My mother…my grandmother…my great grandmother…the genetic anomaly was passed down the Hart female line…that void where the 'mothering instinct' gene was meant to grace the DNA sequence.  
  
I cannot subject another child to the cold that I experienced growing up. I know I will be as terrible a mother as mine was. I know it! How could it be any different?  
  
When I told him, I can't remember when or where, he smiled and with a chuckle asked me why I didn't think I inherited from the Hart side and not the Burnett? He had met my late father's family when we were wrapping up a mission to Scotland, and experienced the warmth of the Burnett clan first hand.  
  
He couldn't understand that I didn't want to take the chance that the gene skipped me and find out I was wrong when it was too late.  
  
God…why can't he just learn to keep his mouth shut. Every time he opens it I am afraid of what is going to come out. Usually I can handle it, but I am getting tired of dealing with the very obvious disconnect between his brain and his mouth.  
  
I once leveled him with a right hook when he put his foot in it with Scarlett and Snakes. Should I have done it again tonight? How can someone so well educated, so gentle and quiet when we were alone, be such a boor?  
  
Is this one of those things my Aunt Sarah told me I was going to have to learn to deal with or seriously rethink my relationship?  
  
Oh god…WHAT RELATIONSHIP? I don't even know if he feels anything but a sexual attraction and a friendly affection for me!  
  
What a mess! I can't believe I called him commitment phobic! He is…but I can't believe I aired all that dirty laundry in front of the others. He is going to be furious when he gets back. The only reason he hasn't confronted me yet is that I left early to go back on duty.  
  
Ah crap…let him boil a little. He deserves it! 


	11. September 1st

September 1st  
  
The PIT was attacked last night.  
  
COBRA somehow managed to infiltrate headquarters, but we managed to push them back. They didn't catch us by surprise this time.  
  
This time.  
  
I still remember the day that COBRA attacked us at Fort Wadsworth with a mixture of fear and anger. Fear that we came so close to being wiped out and anger at being caught off guard.  
  
There is also a terrible feeling of violation…like you get when robbed or victimized in some way. The enemy had been in our territory, had been in our HOME…and had destroyed it. How could it have happened?  
  
How had we grown so lenient?  
  
I feel a chill just thinking about it.  
  
Things could have been much worse. If Flint and I hadn't spotted those EELS sneaking in the back door we might have lost more than our underground headquarters. We might very well have lost a few of our own.  
  
As it was, we very nearly lost Flint.  
  
God…I remember it like it was yesterday…the invasion last night must have triggered something.  
  
If I recall, Flint was hitting on me…again…and less subtly than usually, which meant he was being extremely pushy.  
  
Have I mentioned that Flint makes a very bad first impression?  
  
Since the day he joined the Joes…when he came onto that training field acting like 'gods gift to the military', he rubbed me the wrong way. He was crass, loud, arrogant, annoying, pushy, proud, arrogant, egotistical, boorish…did I mention arrogant?  
  
Well…you get the picture.  
  
He was also…in the words of the immortal Alicia Silverstone…a 'hottie'. So admittedly, I couldn't help but feel a slight attraction to the man. The thing is, the spell was immediately broken the minute he opened his mouth.  
  
Unfortunately, the Warrant Officer seemed to have taken a keen interest in me, and no matter how hard I tried to throw him off my scent, he was nothing if not persistent. As a woman in the military…more so a woman on the Joe team…being in the minority and surrounded by men 24/7, you get used to the constant attention. It isn't harassment really…it irks me when women start crying foul at every look and every word. I developed a tough skin and could take it.  
  
Anyhow…he didn't seem to take the hint…no matter how direct…that I wasn't interested. Funny thing is, though…and I can't believe I am about to admit this on paper…I felt a surprisingly hard pang of jealousy when he finally met Cover Girl.  
  
Now…I am no ugly duckling…but I am certainly not 6 foot 1 of runway model. As is usually the case, one look at our resident beauty queen was enough to set every hot-blooded male on a quest to win her heart.  
  
Flint was no different. At least I thought so…  
  
The thing is…later…much later…I learned from Courtney that Flint did hit on her for a bit the night I saw them together at the local pub…but after she brushed him off he began quizzing her relentlessly about…ME.  
  
In fact, the man would be very quick to point out that he went out with her to make me jealous. Well…I kind of half believe him. I wonder though…if Courtney had decided she wanted him that night…I don't think Dash would have said no.  
  
Anyhow…it worked…I was jealous. I wanted to kick myself from here to Glasgow for being such a fool…but my face was tinted green.  
  
It wasn't that much later that I found myself trying to fend him off in a small park in Fort Wadsworth. He was using some of the cheesiest lines I had ever heard and I was desperately trying not to laugh. Flint was midway through a list of his virtues when I saw the invaders coming out of the water.  
  
Now…although it had been a quite a few months since he had joined the team, I had yet to see him in action. The minute he noticed what had caught my eye, he snapped to attention and looked every bit the calculating soldier. There was a fire in his eye that I had never seen before…and Roadblock's words came back to float through my head.  
  
"You've never seen my man Flint in a real fight…that's when he gets mean!"  
  
Before I knew what was happening, Flint had ordered me to warn the others and had sprung, unarmed, at the enemy. I saw him take one out before they all jumped him and began beating him senseless.  
  
I felt so helpless…  
  
I left him as he had ordered me…but not without some reluctance. I managed to warn the others and together we broke out the weapons and took off to defend our headquarters.  
  
Flint showed up later, beaten up pretty badly…but ready for a fight. I was alarmed by his appearance, by the extent of his injuries…I think as well I was feeling guilty about leaving him. Despite the well-honed military training that made me follow that order, I still felt I should have helped him despite the consequences of my not reaching the others in time. In any case, I didn't leave his side the whole battle lest he get himself killed.  
  
I needn't have worried, he fought like a demon…no one could touch him.  
  
It's too bad our resistance came so late.  
  
I think it was the aftermath of that terrible attack that put the two of us on a new path. For the first time, I was given a glimpse of the Dashiell Faireborn the man, who up until this point was completely hidden behind Flint the soldier.  
  
Wow…I can still feel the rain falling against my face as we walked from our new makeshift command center back towards the barracks after learning that Snake Eyes had been dropped successfully behind enemy lines.  
  
I was telling him how worried Scarlett must be about Snakes, and he shrugged and said she should be used to it by now…it was their job after all. I glared at him then, and said rather shortly that you never get used to it…just get better at masking the fear.  
  
Then I said it…I asked him if he had ever been afraid.  
  
He stopped and stared, obviously wondering what to tell me. I was waiting for the cocky smile and some haughty comment about never being afraid.  
  
I certainly wasn't expecting him to say yes. I think the answer threw me off guard…and because I was still in 'retaliate against asinine Faireborn remarks' mode, I failed to stop myself from uttering the first words that came to mind.  
  
"Good, I was beginning to think you were REALLY stupid."  
  
Well, the look of disbelief that came across his face caused me to feel very uncomfortable. I kind of felt bad…one part of me was screaming he deserved it while another one was chiding me for being hurtful. The latter worsened when he smiled sadly and asked me if that is what I truly thought of him?  
  
So, what did I do? I did what any woman would do when faced with an uncomfortable situation. I turned to walk off…  
  
…Only to stop in amazement when I heard his quiet voice behind me…deep and sonorous…its tone melancholy…utter the following.  
  
"…you may relish him more in the soldier than in the scholar."  
  
…Othello…  
  
What the..!? Wonderful…Flint is in the room with me. How did he get in here? Maybe if I keep writing and ignore him he will go away. I still haven't forgiven him for that incident at the BBQ last week.  
  
This isn't working…he is moving closer. He is directly in front of me now. I can smell him…feel him.  
  
Oh…I just peaked up at his face…he looks so sad. So tired. Could it be that he is remembering the last attack as I am. Could he feeling the same melancholy, fear, anger…that I am?  
  
He…is whispering something…gentle…something about needing me…oh god Alison stop with the tears already. Pull yourself together…keep writing…he will go away…he will…  
  
His hand just brushed away my tear…I can't concentrate…I can feel his breath on my neck…  
  
I … 


	12. September 5th

September 5th  
  
Damn her and her perfect bloody hair.  
  
Long, the most gorgeous red you have ever seen, ever strand always in place…ARGH. I have started wearing my baseball hat again to cover the absolute mess that my mouse brown mop has become. I need a haircut…and I need it NOW.  
  
I keep trying to grow it out…but I just don't have the patience to deal with the transitional chaos. I am too far away from my stylist, and these army barbers are hacks...I always just end up cutting it all off to save myself the grief.  
  
What I DON'T need is her amused commentary.  
  
Sigh*  
  
Scarlett and I have what you might call a love-hate relationship. She and I are roommates, and have become quite close over the 5 years I have been on this team. That doesn't mean, however, that we always get along. Far from it! Both of us have very short, fiery tempers…and when we get going the fur starts to fly.  
  
Sometimes she really gets my back up. Red feels because she is older, more experienced, and out-ranks me that she can lord it over me like some despotic big sister.  
  
Ok…it helps that she can probably pound the crap out of me in a fight. Not that I would be found lacking when things come to blows. I can certainly hold my own when push comes to shove…after he heard about that fight with Zarana Flint took to calling me Mohammed Allie (I can still see him shadow boxing around my room in his boxers chanting `floats like a butterfly, stings like a bee' while I iced my black eye)…but Scarlett has got the whole martial arts thing going for her.  
  
Ah…but when it comes to a verbal brawl…she has more than met her match. I can tear apart the best of them. Sometimes I have to watch myself lest I get carried away in my angry rants. I know I have really hurt her feelings a couple of times.  
  
In fact…she was subject to one of my snarky remarks when we first met. `Tawdry Redhead', I think I called her…among other things. It's a wonder we ever became friends! Lately she has been pretty quiet. I am sure it has something to do with Snakes. Those two have been an item for longer than anyone can remember…but lately there has been some tension there. She never talks about it, but I think it has something to do with this whole ninja force thing that Hawk was 'convinced' to introduce to the team.  
  
The Brass seem to think that if one Ninja is good…more must be better. I disagree. One ninja is quite enough thank you very much.Its funny, she is always has some comment or other on my…what did she call it?... `destructive' relationship with Flint…and yet if there was ever an example of a high maintenance couple it would be the two of them! That man has more issues than People magazine during the Oscars!  
  
Don't get me wrong…I love him like a brother. In fact, he is one of the first people I go to when I have a problem…I sometimes tell him things I can't say to Flint or wouldn't tell Shana. He is a good listener and I know he won't tell a soul. And not just because he is mute!  
  
And in his own quiet way, he gives sound and meaningful advice. All in sign language, which I understand very well. I picked it up easily from watching him and Shana.  
  
Hey…I wasn't eavesdropping! It isn't my fault I pick up languages so easily is it?  
  
Anyhow…I know their relationship isn't all champagne and roses. I just hate it when Red starts going on about Flint and I. People in glass houses…  
  
How can she judge? She doesn't know him like I do. No one sees the man I see…She only sees Flint, whom she has no patience for…she doesn't know Dashiell.  
  
`She doesn't know him like I do'. Hmmm…I just reread that and realized that Psych-Out would have a field day with that little tidbit. Sounds very much like an excuse someone would make to their friends when they are in denial about a destructive relationship.  
  
If only things were that simple.  
  
Problem is…that sentence is the very truth. No one knows him like I do.  
  
I don't know how I came to be his confidant…but he has told me things, things about himself…that I know he has never told anyone. Its both an honor and a curse…an honor that he trusts and thinks highly enough of me to confide these things…and a curse because it is the very thing that has bound my heart to him. Bound it so tightly, touched me so profoundly, that I fear I will never be able to fully extricate him from my life.  
  
Enough of that…back to Shana.  
  
She really shouldn't judge. She should get her own love life in order before she starts analyzing mine. I mean, talk about destructive!  
  
I guess I am just pissed off with her right now for giving me that disapproving look as Flint left my room the other morning. Sure I was crabby all week because of the whole `child' incident at Stalker's…and maybe…JUST MAYBE…I might have taken it out on her.  
  
Nothing happened that night. We just held each other for a while before falling asleep in each other's arms. It was his quiet way of apologizing.  
  
Not that its any of her business what I do and don't do.  
  
She thinks I am weak. She thinks I can't walk away from it…  
  
Ha…she has no idea!  
  
I have walked away from a man who loved me and who I felt I would be spending the rest of my life with. I walked away from my friends and the only life I knew and went into the army. I walked away from more money than she could ever dream off…  
  
No…it would be difficult…but I could do it if I felt it was necessary. It would kill me…I think it might very well destroy a part of my soul…but if it came to it…I could walk away.  
  
I just pray that it will never come to that. 


	13. September 8th

1 September 8th  
  
You'll never guess where I am right now.  
  
I'm sitting in the back of a military cargo plane on the way to COBRA Island. It seems that Hawk has decided that the time is ripe for retaliation, and we are about to hit the enemy right smack in their own backyard.  
  
I had known the general had something like this up his sleeve after COBRA raided our base, as the analysis work he had asked me to do all pointed in that direction. I just never thought I'd end up on the strike force. This is a pure combat mission and though my Int skills are always welcome, it's my fighting abilities that are going to be put to the test.  
  
I know I can do it. I have done it before…I know I can hold my own. There is only one slight, tiny, teeny little problem. It involves a night HALO jump. I'm jumping out of a plane… me…who used to stiffen in fright on the chairlift in Aspen! It's a good thing I am over my fear of heights…  
  
Ummmm…yeah…better not be leaning over to look out that window, Burnett…  
  
Anyways, we are a small team consisting of Duke, Roadblock and Snake Eyes. Wild Bill and Ace are in the cockpit, and Stalker is the jumpmaster.  
  
The equipment is heavy…mostly because of the oxygen tanks we are forced to carry due to the thin air at such high altitudes. The weapons and the heavily padded suits aren't helping the situation.  
  
Admittedly, I am a bit nervous but I will have collected myself by the time we reach the drop zone. You would think diving off a plane into the pitch black and cold of the night would be terrifying. It is. The thing is at first it isn't so much scary as eerie, above the clouds with the moon's ethereal, haunting glow lighting your way. It's when you hit the cloud-line that everything goes black and frightening. You have only your altimeter to tell you where you are in relation to the ground. All you can do is hope your equipment works and that you will pull your ripcord in time.  
  
Ok…I have got to stop thinking about it or I am going to psych myself out.  
  
Other than the part about parachuting, I am glad Duke picked me for this one. I am just burning for a chance to get even with COBRA for raiding the PIT. Not that this is going to be a walk in the park. Far from it…our enemy is ruthless, merciless…  
  
Cobra Commander, Storm Shadow (the brainwashed version), Major Bludd, Zartan and his Crew, Dr. Mindbender…the whole COBRA thing…it might sound like something out of a bad cartoon, but believe me these men are not to be trifled with. They are cunning, strong, well armed and fanatic about their cause.  
  
Not a good combination.  
  
After all these years of fighting them, of studying their every move, I have really become familiar with the enemy…and not only because we fought alongside some of them during the ill-fated COBRA civil war. As I told Flint so long ago, when you fight someone long enough you get to know them…  
  
…And in some cases, you come to respect them.  
  
You are probably thinking the person I am referring to is Zartan. We are both 'covert ops' in a weird, convoluted way. While I do admire his skill at disguise, I think the man is a hack…a glorified gang member with a knack for mimicry and a taste for cruelty  
  
No…the one person in COBRA that I respect and in a way even admire, is Destro.  
  
Ok…I don't know how it got started, but there is still a rumor going around that I am related to the current Lord McCullen. I thought it was because we were both Scottish…how silly is that? Apparently, though, as are most rumors it is based partially on fact. I found out recently that one of my great-great-grandfather's cousins twice removed was married to Destro's great Uncle or something equally obscure and as hidden deep down in the Burnett family tree.  
  
Anyhow, it's not that…or the Scottish thing. Ok, the latter plays in a bit as I feel a kind of kinship to him. We both come from the same clan-type upbringing, both from the upper classes, both with a well-ingrained sense of propriety.  
  
It's more than that. I have a strong sense that Destro is, deep down, an honorable man. I think that he is a man of integrity, whose business dealings have forced his hand.  
  
I don't admit this to many people…only to Flint really. The other Joes would never understand such positive feelings towards an enemy who is bound and determined to destroy us. I think Flint has a hard time with it as well.  
  
He and I have had many an argument about it. He sees the man as a money hungry arms dealer driven purely by greed, perfectly willing to push nobility aside for the mighty dollar. He is right of course…why else would Destro be in bed with COBRA? I argue that he might very well regret his decision to support the Commander.  
  
He did try and get out after all…  
  
I sometimes wonder if this is some weird convoluted form of Hostage Syndrome where you start seeing your enemy as your friend. I asked Psych Out about it once and he said that very well might be the case.  
  
He went on to add that sometimes a good hearted person like myself who is forced to fight against a ruthless enemy, forced to see the atrocities committed in the name of world domination NEEDS to see some good in the enemy in order to keep a grip on their sanity. It's very difficult to believe that somebody is pure evil…it really does a number on your life outlook.  
  
He did, however, say that however much he thought there is some truth to the saying 'honor among thieves', I might be romanticizing the whole thing.  
  
That's probably true. Destro is quite striking despite the metal mask that covers his face. A voice like Sean Connery's, a sharp mind and a body that is quite nice to look at, he is the kind of man that you expect to see playing the older lead in some Merchant Ivory film.  
  
Too bad that vamp on his arm ruins the picture.  
  
The Baroness is a bitch with a capital 'B'.  
  
I guess working with him that time in Scotland did a number on me. Flint and I had been sent to retrieve the plans to the Terrordrome, and before we knew it found ourselves breaking Destro out of jail and helping him to recapture his castle from an invading doppelganger.  
  
After a successful prison break…planned and executed by yours truly I might add…I found myself sitting down to dinner with the arms dealer as we waited for Flint and the others to return from recon around the castle. Destro had to keep a low profile and I was assigned to keep an eye on him.  
  
Well, he was pleasantly surprised when he found out I spoke fluent Gaelic and that I was from good Scottish noble stock. We began to chat and somehow I let down my defenses as the evening wore on. When Flint came in he found us still sitting in the RAF mess hall sipping on tea as he told me a story he knew of the old country.  
  
I was so enraptured by his voice, by the story…that I didn't even notice Flint until he was right behind me. Not understanding what was being said…it was all in Gaelic…he broke the spell with an angry word and a barked order.  
  
Needless to say, he was none to pleased.  
  
He was also less than pleased when the great Lord McCullen kissed my hand as he handed me the plans to the COBRA stronghold.  
  
How could Flint understand the memories that flooded back that evening? How could he know that our mortal enemy was a comfort that night…bringing back, if only for an instant, recollections of my late father?  
  
I guess I missed my dad more than I cared to admit. The emptiness he left in my heart when he finally succumbed to the cancer that had been eating away at him bit by painful bit was like a vacuum. That night, against all odds, Destro was caught in its pull.  
  
No. Flint could not have even guessed at what was going on in my mind. How could he? We were just getting to know each other better.  
  
In fact…it was during that mission that I finally succumbed to his persistent charms. It was in Scotland that our relationship became 'more' than friends.  
  
As for Destro…I guess the memory of that evening is still sitting in the back of my mind, coloring my view of him.  
  
Needless to say, if I met him on the battlefield…I wouldn't even hesitate to pull the trigger. Honorable or not, he is still the enemy. He is still COBRA, and I have sworn along with everyone else on the Joe team to bring the organization down.  
  
Wild Bill's voice is coming over the intercom. We are closing in on the drop zone…I had better get ready. 


	14. September 9th

1 September 9th  
  
What a day.  
  
What a fight!  
  
Roadblock, Duke are all sitting in a clearing waiting for extraction. Although the mission turned out a little differently than expected, we managed to come out of it bruised but alive.  
  
From the moment we touched down on the island it seemed the fates were against us. Roadblock ended up being dragged away from us when the wind caught his chute, and though I wanted to help him, Duke called me off. Thank god he did because it was at that point that we spotted the patrol.  
  
We tried to take them out quietly but unfortunately they weren't so easy to kill. In fact, they weren't even human. They were BATS.  
  
Ugh. I hate BATS. They are like something out of Terminator II, androids programmed to destroy. Too sci-fi for my taste, and given the fact that they are very VERY hard to destroy, I would rather face and army of humans than one of COBRA's robot troopers.  
  
As it was, one of those things damn near killed me. If it wasn't for Duke I would have gotten my head blown off for sure. Needless to say, I didn't listen to him when he told me to get the hell out and decided in my wisdom to shove a grenade into the bot's body while Duke was wrestling it. Instead of the heroic move I thought it would be, I got a pistol butt to my head and fell gracelessly into the swamp.  
  
Damn grenade! Never trust one to have the proper fuse length. Did the trick in the end, although I have one heck of a bump on my noggin' for my troubles.  
  
It is starting to ache like a bitch too.  
  
Ah well…things went from bad to worse after that. Our exercise in 'stealth' recon was given away by that little tousle, and with no cover in the marsh that surrounded the COBRA citadel we became sitting ducks.  
  
At least Roadblock made his way back to us. Alive and grinning like a fool he blew away the BATS that had us pinned.  
  
Roadblock is one of the nicest people I have ever met. He is a huge man, imposing and strong as a bull…but inside that muscle bound exterior beats a heart of gold. Sweet, good-natured, loyal and just an all round likeable character, he and I hit it off early on. I really enjoy working with him. There isn't anyone I would rather have watching my back.  
  
In fact, I am leaning against him right now as we wait for Wild Bill. I was feeling dizzy and although I didn't mention a thing to anyone, I think he sensed something was up and plunked himself down next to me, offering me some of his rations.  
  
Rations! Yeah, right…Roadblock is one hell of a cook…and sure enough he had a supply of his world famous brownies stuffed in his pack.  
  
I am a very picky eater. In fact other than the occasional chocolate/ice- cream/cookie binge, I hardly ever eat. You should have seen me before I joined the army…I was like a beanpole! I gained weight since then, all muscle of course, and it has resulted in what Flint likes to call 'one hell of a sexy bod'.  
  
Anyhow, I digress…  
  
No matter how picky I can be…I always pig out on Marvin's cooking. I have been to some of the best restaurants in both North America and Europe, and I know that if he decided to go into the business after he retires from the military he would definitely blow a lot of them off the map.  
  
Duke is watching me from across the way, his expression unreadable. Conrad is a wonderful commander, I have worked with him before but this is the first time he has hand picked me for one of his small strike forces. I can see now why his men always say they would follow him to the grave if he so asked.  
  
He is selfless, brave, and always has a word of encouragement or praise for his men. He can be harsh with his orders but he would never command you to do something he wasn't fully capable and willing to do himself  
  
Duke, Roadblock and Flint go way back. The three of them have served together for years, and have remained close to this day. They are all so different, yet their personalities never clash…well at least Flint and Roadblock's don't. Marvin tends to act as a nice buffer against Dash's macho arrogance, bringing a little common sense and heart to the Warrant Officer's laissez fair attitude.  
  
Duke, on the other hand…well…it just seems that the two of them are always at the very brink of ripping each other to shreds. At least Flint is. There seems to be some sort of rivalry going on that I have yet to grasp.  
  
I know that Conrad always seems to be one step ahead of Dash. Whether it be rank or promotion. He even got chosen to the Joe team before him. Duke is better loved by the other Joes, and although they respect and trust Flint, I am sure they are a bit put off by his attitude…and his tendency to blow off his mouth.  
  
Night and Day. The dark haired party-boy versus the blond 'boy scout'. The melancholy scholar versus the varsity jock. Chaos versus Control.  
  
Duke never seems to get into trouble, always doing the right thing. He always knows exactly what to say, never putting his combat boot in his mouth like a certain beret-clad Warrant Officer that we all know. Even drunk he manages to keep his nose clean.  
  
It drives Flint insane.  
  
I know. I hear all about it…usually delivered at a very high volume while he paces around the room gesturing madly in the air.  
  
I also know that the two of them had an argument just before we took off on this mission. I caught the end of it purely by chance, having come by to get tell the sergeant the team was ready to go. I heard Flint's voice say my name and something about Duke using me to make a point.  
  
God…I wanted to kill him! Was that what he thought? That Duke chose me for the team just to egg him on? Did the man think NOTHING of me as a soldier? If I wasn't just about to leave I would have kicked Flint in the groin right then and there.  
  
As it was, I left him with a sharp word and an angry glare.  
  
I would still be fuming if Duke hadn't come up to me after we took off to tell me quietly that Flint was worried sick about me going on this mission. That was why he was angry with him…he was trying to protect me.  
  
I frowned and told Duke point blank that Flint had better get over it. I am as much a soldier as he is.  
  
Duke smiled and said that he agreed…that was why he chose me for this gig. He did add, as he turned off to speak with Stalker, that Flint is allowed to worry, and so should he in fact…'cause Dash swore he would kill him if he lost me.  
  
Sigh*  
  
Flint. You are an idiot. A sweet idiot and I love you…but you are an idiot nonetheless.  
  
I am looking up at Duke. There is something there that I am not getting. There is definitely more to that conversation between them that meets the eye. I wonder if I will ever know what the hell is going on between those two.  
  
I can just make out Duke smiling and nodding at me in the dark of the Island…a silent pat on the back for a job well done. The mission was difficult, but I think I held my own and Duke just confirmed it for me. Even though the Island was abandoned by COBRA, we had Firefly and his brainwashed ninjas to deal with…not to mention a veritable army of BATS.  
  
To tell you the truth, however, I doubt any of us would be alive right now if it wasn't for Snake Eyes. He pretty much single handedly saved the day. The man is an incredible fighter…and although I put Ninjas somewhere near Battle Android Troopers on my list of pet peeves, I admit that I am grateful he is with us.  
  
He is on watch somewhere along the perimeter. You would be hard pressed to spot him, but he is there. His presence is reassuring. Who knows how many BATS are left half functional (and fully-deadly) in the waters of the marsh. I stepped on one earlier and it nearly killed me.  
  
Poor man. I know he is very worried about Scarlett. So am I, in fact…I hope she is ok.  
  
Those two never seem to catch a break.  
  
Just thinking about that, I suddenly feel a deep aching longing to be with Dash. I hope the chopper gets here soon. My head hurts, I am dizzy, I am tired…and I need his arms around me.  
  
Sure…I'm a soldier…but as Dash once said to me when we stood alone on the beach in Grenada, sometimes the toughest soldier needs a comforting embrace, a shoulder to cry on, a friend to hold you up when you felt like you were spiraling out of control…  
  
"But comfort me, my love, now the fires are low, Now I am broken to earth like a winter destroyed, and all Myself but a knowledge of roots, of roots in the dark that throw A net on the undersoil, which lies passive beneath their thrall" (Lawrence)  
  
That's Flint for you…every so often that brash soldier lets his guard down and you get a rare glimpse of the poet within. 


	15. September 11th

1 September 11th  
  
Mild concussion.  
  
If this is mild, I would hate to feel what a severe one is like!  
  
My head is pounding and I damn near collapsed in the hallway, but Lifeline insists its nothing a little bed rest won't clear up. From the look on Flint's face I can tell he is as skeptical about the diagnosis as I am.  
  
I am not one to show pain. I am not one to show weakness…so when Duke and Flint saw me stumble in the hall they immediately became worried. So much so that they stopped arguing for the first time since our team exited the helicopter half an hour ago. I was about to physically put myself between the two of them in order to end their bickering when it hit. It was only Roadblock's quick reflexes that prevented me from falling.  
  
Sure…I hadn't felt myself since we finished up our job on Cobra Island…but I figured it was just exhaustion and stress. God knows I have felt that before…but the searing pain that ripped through my skull told me that the B.A.T who hit me with his gun had done more damage than originally thought.  
  
Its times like these that I really miss Doc. I am not very comfortable around medical personal, and try to avoid the infirmary as much as possible. But Doc always made me feel safe and well cared for. Its not that Lifeline isn't a good medic, I am sure he is one of the best or he wouldn't be here. But Doc…he was special.  
  
Loosing him was a blow…he was so young. He was such a good man. He devoted himself to healing, to saving the lives of others. How ironic that someone dedicated to saving lives should lose his own so tragically.  
  
It's never easy losing a teammate, and the Joe team has had its share of losses, but some just hit you harder than others.  
  
At any rate…its about 3 am and I am still up. Actually, I am not allowed to sleep! Some cruel form of punishment disguised as medical observation. At least the pain has lessened to a dull throbbing, giving me the opportunity to actually sit up and write. I need to stay occupied or else I will end up snoring before you can say Rapid Eye Movement.  
  
Dash is fast asleep in the chair next to the bed, the book he was reading hanging precariously on his lap. Poor guy looks really uncomfortable, and he is certainly going to be stiff tomorrow when he wakes up.  
  
Stubborn man! He insisted on staying in the infirmary to help keep me awake despite Lifeline's insistence that the nurses were going to do just that. You should have seen the look on his face when the medic told him that he had nothing to worry about…he got all blustery and began to vehemently deny that he was concerned…  
  
I think I rolled my eyes then, which caused him to glare back at me while Lifeline tried unsuccessfully to hide a smirk. He wiped it off quickly enough when Flint swung back to him and fixed him with one of his patented bad-ass glowers.  
  
Oh Flint…that macho self image of yours is starting to crack under pressure…  
  
I just leaned over to grab the book off his lap before it could fall to the ground and wake him. 'The Unbearable Lightness of Being'. Who would have pegged Flint as a reader?  
  
I would…because I know him now and he trusts me enough to read something like that in my presence.  
  
I guess it's time I talked a bit about Flint. I have been avoiding it I know…but it seaps out every so often. How could it not? He has become such a big part of my life…our lives have become so intertwined that I am having trouble distinguishing where mine ends and his begins.  
  
I know more about him than most people, as he rarely shares personal information with anyone despite his big mouth. I certainly know more than Duke or Roadblock even with their long history. Over the years that we have been together he has shared things with me…and the puzzle that is Dashiell Faireborn is starting to come together in my mind piece by quiet piece.  
  
Goodness…he is such a complex character; I don't know where to start! I certainly don't want to share too many details…who knows will end up reading this and I have no right to betray his secrets, even to Psych Out who is bound by his oath to keep what I say to him or what he may read here to himself.  
  
I guess the most important thing to know about Dash…the thing that has defined his life more than anything else…is his mind. Now, I have always considered myself 'smarter than the average bear'…straight A's, Honor Role…but I worked at it. The languages came naturally for certain…but nothing else came easy.  
  
Dash, on the other hand, would have MENSA clambering for him to lead the organization. He is a genius…pure and simple. I have never seen anything like it…his mind works so quickly and with such a deep and profound understanding of the most difficult subjects that it is almost frightening to watch.  
  
According to his eldest brother, his 'gift' was apparent at a very early age…and although his parents were obviously proud of their son's ability and certainly encouraged it, they couldn't possibly have foreseen that his talent would end up isolating him.  
  
Dash was a quiet boy…a bit of a nerd in school. His scholastic aptitude made him the target for bullies and more often than not he came home bruised and battered from a schoolyard tussle. His brothers were all much older and wanted to protect him but his father was of the mind that he needed to fight his own battles.  
  
His father the retired colonel.  
  
His father the war hero.  
  
His father who raised three strapping young men, and was now faced with something he didn't quite understand. A sensitive, introverted little boy who would rather read than skateboard…rather hide than fight.  
  
I think his quiet disappointment hurt Dash more than any classroom bully.  
  
His father needn't have worried. Being smart and quick on the uptake, Dash learned very quickly what it took to be accepted at school. As he grew he discovered that his abilities translated relatively well to the athletic arena…and that excelling at Rugby made him more of a star than any scholarship. Then as his body developed he realized that he was good looking, and that those looks got him more attention than any profound analysis of Byron…especially in the eyes of the opposite sex.  
  
His sharp mind turned people off…he learned to hide it. His love of literature somehow made him less masculine in the eyes of his peers. He learned to read only in private.  
  
He learned what it took to be popular. He learned what it took to make his father proud. He became the ultimate man. The arrogant adonis, the brash soldier, the macho lady-killer.  
  
Flint was born…  
  
Not that his intellectual abilities suffered. He still managed to earn a Rhodes Scholarship to Oxford. He was still an honors student…but it came to him with very little effort. He is the type that should have been in university when he was 10 years old. Everything else was too easy.  
  
Needless to say, that ease made didn't help his cockiness…  
  
In any case he joined the army soon after finishing up his degree in English Literature, following in his father and brothers footsteps. With his background he could easily have been an officer, but instead he chose to go in as enlisted. To be one of the boys. To be in on the action. The man feels he constantly has to prove himself…  
  
All four Faireborn boys are in one branch of the military or another…two are in the Navy and one is a Marine. And yes they are all just as hard- headed and arrogant (one is a f-14 pilot, it comes with the territory with those flyboys), but Flint is by far the worst of the bunch.  
  
You know, its funny…for all the macho bravado…for all the testosterone fueled pride, he is really a very insecure person. I think whatever he went through as a child really affected him, and because of it he no longer trusts anyone enough to let down his guard.  
  
He certainly would never be caught dead reading Milan Kundera in the rec- room near the others. I know deep down he realizes it isn't that big a deal, and although he would probably be teased he can certainly handle himself. Nevertheless…he still hides his taste for the 'intellectual'…he still masks his genius with party-boy ramblings…  
  
At least he tries to hide it. It's impossible to do so completely. It seeps out every time he plans a mission, every time he advises his CO. He is a master tactician, and everyone knows it. There are very few people who can out think Flint on the battlefield.  
  
I'm no psychologist, and I hate it when friends try to analyze my behavior like some armchair Sigmund Freud. Maybe I am wrong. Maybe he is just so used to being this way that it really is his true self…  
  
…No I am sure it is…'Flint' is as much as part of what makes him 'HIM' as 'Dashiell' is, and for all the headaches he has caused me I wouldn't change him for the world.  
  
"…you may relish him more in the soldier than in the scholar."  
  
I didn't fully realize it at the time, but those quiet words uttered with such feeling on a rainy night outside our destroyed headquarters held so much meaning to him. In an eloquent quote from Shakespeare, Dash summed up the one fear, the one uncertainty that has defined him for most of his life.  
  
I can't help but wish that the others knew the introverted scholar, the quiet Dashiell that lies inside the warrior. It would show him once and for all that he needn't hide, that none of the guys would think any less of him for being a poet, a philosopher, a thinker. That he would not be a pariah…  
  
On the other hand…I admit to wanting to have this side of him all to myself. Selfish? Maybe…but it makes me feel special, trusted…and dare I say it…loved.  
  
I am going to have to stop here. The nurse is here for another 'check'. It's my last one, so that means I can go to sleep now. Good, because I am just about at the end of my rope and no one is going to want to be with me tomorrow if I haven't had enough sleep. I am pretty crabby when I'm overtired.  
  
Oh, he's awake and is watching me carefully through sleepy eyes…  
  
I wonder if there is enough room in this hospital bed for both of us? 


	16. September 16th

1 September 16th  
  
It's been a quiet couple of days here at GIJOE central. Well, quiet in terms of COBRA activity…not in terms of sheer volume of things that need to get done.  
  
My legs are still wobbly from the killer obstacle course that Beachhead put us through last night in the pouring rain. I swear that man spends his evenings dreaming up ways to make us sweat. He's a patient, stubborn bastard too…and will sit and wait you out if you stumble or stop…glaring until you are forced to push yourself to complete the grueling torture he calls 'exercises' to escape his scrutiny.  
  
He isn't interested in excuses. He is only concerned about one thing…that you do your best and then some. He expects every member of this team to push themselves to their limits and then drive their tired body beyond them.  
  
As much as I grumble about it…every time I finish one of his exercises I feel an immense sense of accomplishment.  
  
In any case, as I was saying even when we are not engaging the enemy or out on a mission, there is very little free time on this team. Paperwork, equipment maintenance, briefings, familiarization with new weapons, training, training and more training...  
  
…In the military you can never become complacent. The moment you think you have learned it all, done it all, are in the best shape you have ever been…that is the moment you find a bullet tearing through your skull.  
  
That's not to say there isn't down time. Without it we would most likely all burn out…as I have mentioned before this is a stressful job. I cherish those moments that I have to myself…  
  
One of those moments is right now.  
  
I am actually on the surface, having escaped the PIT for the afternoon only to find that it is still pouring rain. It rarely rains in the desert, but this time of year the area is inundated with water. I actually like it…not only because it reminds me of the storms at home on the Vineyard…but once the rain has subsided, the desert will erupt in bloom. It really is a beautiful sight…flowers as far as the eye can see. It doesn't last very long, but once you have seen it remains in your memory forever.  
  
Who would have thought this East Coast girl who grew up on the shores of the Atlantic would find herself so enchanted by the desert!  
  
I made my way to the motor pool, a large hanger where we store most of the land vehicles, and am now sitting in the driver's seat of Flint's car while he works away at the engine. The large bay doors are open and there is a gentle, wet wind blowing in from outside. Cross Country and Crank Case are busy cleaning the sand off the Awe Strikers that had been out in the field earlier this morning, and in the background the CD player is blasting out the blues/rock of Bruce Springsteen.  
  
This machine is Flint's pride and joy. A red Mustang Cobra (ironic) convertible sporting what Clutch keeps referring to as a kick ass engine with more power than a Wolverine. The car is in impeccable condition, ever panel, ever part, every inch waxed and shining, the leather seats soft as a babies bottom, the engine purring due to the inordinate amount of time Flint spends tuning it.  
  
Boys and their toys…sigh*  
  
This is about as close as I will ever get to driving it, turning the engine every so often on Flint's signal…giving it gas while he monitors things under the hood. He made it very clear early on that the car was off limits…and the resulting argument resulted in one of our finer moments.  
  
It was a few months after Flint joined the Joes, and he had been working on the car while I sat quietly with Heavy Metal as he explained to me the inner workings of the MOBAT. I had never been very good at driving these heavily armored vehicles, preferring something light and fast like an AWE striker…or better yet a RAM, but I knew if I didn't master the 59 ton tank it would end up coming back to haunt me…and knowing my luck it would happen in the middle of a battle.  
  
Anyhow, I don't remember precisely HOW it got started, but somehow Flint and I began arguing about his car. More specifically on my abilities as a driver. Apparently, he was of the mind that girls and cars don't mix well (Courtney was the exception to the rule)…and that not only would I not know a good car if it came up and bit me in the behind but I would definitely not be able to handle the 'stang. Maybe a cute little Civic hatch would be more my speed…  
  
Ah yes…a typical Flint testosterone-show.  
  
Poor Sherm sat quietly to the side as we went at it and in the end got dragged, along with Crank Case, into one of my better thought schemes.  
  
Ok…I admit to knowing next to nothing about cars. In fact, up until that week I never really owned one. I used to take one of my parents cars out when I was in town, and while at university I never needed one. The army provided me with a fleet of Jeeps and Hummers to choose from should I feel a need to go into town…why waste the money?  
  
Of course, lack of money was never a problem for me. I did get cut off from the Hart fortune when I went against family wishes and joined the forces, but that certainly did not effect to my existing inheritance, which was substantial. I had to fight for it…many lawyers, it was not pretty…but I won. Smart investment strategy and very little in the way of expenses has helped that nest egg grow.  
  
How much? Ah, a lady never talks of money…it's impolite! Let's just say that although I will never be able to return to the jet-setting lifestyle that I had pre-army, I'll definitely never suffer.  
  
But I digress…I was angry at Flint and being the stubborn, competitive person that I am, decided I needed to make a point. So in my infinite wisdom and with one of Cover Girl's Car and Driver magazines in hand, I dragged Sherman and Elwood out the very next day and hit the dealerships.  
  
Now, Crank is a car fanatic. He was racing cars as soon as he got his license, and knew a good machine when he saw one. I think he was expecting to test drive some Miatas, a mustang, a prelude or two…and was quietly going over with me the pros and cons of those particular vehicles when we pulled into the dealership I had chosen.  
  
I can still remember the two of them in the back of the jeep, their eyes bulging through their head…their mouths watering at the prospect of taking some of those babies out for a spin. Needless to say a good time was had by all…  
  
…and when, a couple of days later, I peeled past Flint and his Cobra on the highway outside Fort Wadsworth in my brand new shiny black Porsche 911 turbo convertible, pausing just long enough glance over my shoulder and smirk…well, lets just say seeing the look on his face was worth every penny of the inordinate amount of money I has just spent.  
  
The car in question is sitting under a tarp in the back of this very motor pool. I have grown quite fond of it, and although I don't spend half as much time driving it as I would like, I will never regret the purchase. And if Flint ever starts up on my abilities as a driver I merely have to challenge him to a race and swing my set of keys in his face to shut him up.  
  
Speaking of shutting him up…what the hell is he going on about? What did he just call me?  
  
Grrrrrr….hold on….  
  
Woohoo. Ha ha ha!  
  
I just hit the horn while he was leaning into the engine and it startled him so badly that he ended up smashing his head against the hood, swearing as he did so. He is standing just outside the car glaring at me but I know he wouldn't dare touch the door or the interior with his grease and oil covered hands.  
  
I am safe…I think I will stick my tongue out at him.  
  
Oh oh…that did it…  
  
Wait…  
  
Why is he grinning evilly?  
  
What is he doing with those work gloves?  
  
what?  
  
No…  
  
He wouldn't dare…  
  
Oh shit…gotta go! 


	17. September 25th

September 25th  
  
I'm off base tonight. Not on a mission exactly, but out of the PIT nonetheless. It seems my RIO (radar intercept officer) re-quals have come due and I had to report to the nearby Air Force base early this morning.  
  
Have a mentioned I'm a pilot? A damned good one too. I can fly pretty much anything fixed wing…C5, C17, C130…although the interceptor fighter jets like the f-15 are a little out of my league even if I COULD pilot them…which I can't. 'One', I'm not an officer, and 'two' I'm a woman.  
  
Ah the last male bastion of the armed forces…military fighter pilot. Oh, and submariner…which I think is the most unappealing job in the universe. The Squids seem to like it well enough though.  
  
Anyhow…the fact that I can't pilot one doesn't mean I haven't been up in the backseat of an f-15 SkyStriker. That is precisely what I am here to re- qualify in…all modes of the Doppler radar and air to ground mapping. Though the tandem seating arrangement does happen to position me in the rear of the cockpit, my importance by no means takes a "back seat" to the pilot's! The complex geometry of the tactical intercept and the fluid dynamics of the close-in dogfight require that both pilot and RIO operate as a precision-drilled team  
  
I know, I know. I'm NOT Air Force…although I was thinking of switching over at one point before I 'discovered' Covert Ops. The thing is recent budget cuts have forced us all to multi-task.  
  
Flint, for instance, is out in the field right now flying a transport chopper…not that he is complaining. He loves flying…and doesn't have to fight a constant battle against a fear of heights as I do. He and Wild Bill left base in high spirits, and I bet you anything the two Warrant Officers are probably having a grand time cowboy-ing around up there.  
  
Mind you once he finds out where I have been spending my time he is going to blow, and it has nothing to do with my flying…  
  
More with the person I am flying with.  
  
His name is Brad Armbruster…Captain Armbruster…but everyone calls him Ace. That nickname actually came more from his taste for gambling than his superb skills as a pilot.  
  
The man is every inch a typical flyboy. Proud, cocky, good-looking…in fact very much like Flint but easier going…less intense and very charming. If first impressions are everything, Ace has got it down to an art. The brilliant smile, the sparkle of humor in his blue eyes… just like Maverick from Top Gun. In fact if Ace were Navy I would say that Tom Cruise's character in the film was modeled on him.  
  
You know…there is a reason Top Gun did so well in the box office…and let me tell you it was NOT about plot or the dog fights…  
  
Volleyball scene…nuff said…  
  
So you are probably wondering where all this is coming from? Well…believe it or not, Ace and I had a 'thing' going for little while. When I say 'thing', I am not talking anything serious…just a little fun after hours.  
  
Actually, the fling started after my first re-quals with him a few years ago. We had gone up for a routine flight, trying out some new equipment the tech boys had installed on the Skystriker when we encountered Wild Weasel and the Baroness in the skies above small town NJ.  
  
What ensued was one of the most terrifying and exciting flights I have ever had. A real dogfight…live ammo…my god it was exhilarating. There were couple of very close calls and I even took the controls for a while. Although at the time it was a struggle just to keep us from crashing I think I handled the aircraft pretty well.  
  
The whole thing ended up in a draw…both of the Rattler and the Skystriker ran out of Ammo and were badly damaged. Ace was quiet the whole flight back but I managed to pull him out of it with a couple of Snoopy and the Red Baron jokes. After a loud de-briefing back at McGuire we ended up going out on the town together for some drinks and a bit of dancing.  
  
We both got pretty drunk, one thing led to another…and there you go…  
  
Hey it happens! How do you think it got started with Flint? A love-at-first- sight romance?  
  
Nope.  
  
We were at a pub in Scotland having a good time and boom, next thing I know I am waking up beside him. Before you go jumping to any conclusions…believe it or not I came on to him.  
  
I guess I had better back-peddle a bit here.  
  
As I have mentioned before, the attack on the PIT was a turning point for the two of us. That rainy night, the night he told me he had been afraid…we ended up staying up the whole night in his room just talking. He didn't flirt, he didn't make any rude suggestions, he didn't even touch me; we just chatted about anything and everything.  
  
In the months that followed I started to hang out with him more often and we became quite good friends. He was still a big jerk at times, but more and more I was given glimpses of his quiet side. I don't think he even realized he was doing it…but he was slowly letting down his guard.  
  
That isn't to say that the flirting had stopped, it didn't…just became subtler Well, subtle for Flint. Which isn't saying much.  
  
I think Hawk must have noticed the change in our relationship, and decided that the time was ripe to move ahead with what I found out later had been on his mind all along…to team us up. For some reason he was of the opinion that the two of us would work well together.  
  
He was right.  
  
That mission to Scotland was a masterpiece. Not only did we pull it off successfully, but we did it with style. I have worked with many soldiers…I have fought alongside many Joes…but Flint and I just clicked. Our personalities and abilities balance each other out so well that, as Flint once said, we accomplish more as partners than we could ever hope to achieve alone.  
  
My professionalism holds Flint's bravado in check, while his courage and confidence drives me to take chances that I might never even consider on my own.  
  
After we had finished up with Destro and returned to the RAF airbase where we were staying, the two British soldiers we had been working with decided to take us out to the pubs. We ended up at the Red Lion, and quite by chance ran into my cousins Colin and Duncan, along with many other childhood friends. Actually, they were all there to see The Chieftains, who were playing live that very night. The place was so packed we almost didn't get in until the bouncer at the door recognized me. The beer, the music, the company…it was a fantastic night.  
  
We drank, sang and danced until the wee hours of the morning.  
  
When we returned to base and had said goodnight to Sergeant Day and Jingles, Flint decided to escort me back to my room. I thought for sure he was going to try something, and at that point I was ready to welcome it. We had been getting along so well…and my god the man was stunning…it would have been abnormal if I hadn't.  
  
Much to my surprise…and chagrin…he chose that very moment to be a gentleman. We were both drunk after all. He probably thought he would be taking advantage of me…  
  
Needless to say, I decided it was time to take matters into my own hands.  
  
It didn't take much…one year of pent of sexual tension exploded that night…and it was pretty awesome if I do say so myself.  
  
We spent the rest of the week in Scotland, working side by side with RAF on some other 'Destro' related matters. Although our days were pretty much filled to the rim with military duties, I spent the evenings showing Flint the Scotland I knew.  
  
My real homeland…  
  
And at night…well…the floodgates had opened. There was no turning back…even though things had to slow down a bit when we got back to headquarters…nothing could stop it. Not that either of us wanted it to!  
  
However, we had both made it very clear that it was nothing serious. Just for fun…  
  
Why not? I wasn't looking for anything more at that point…and I enjoyed his company. I didn't see the harm in it. How could I have predicted it would grow into something much much more?  
  
I don't think I quite realized it until Grenada, and even then it didn't hit me full on.  
  
Ah Grenada…the first time I made love to Dash.  
  
Ha! I threw you there, didn't I? Well…I don't know how else to put it…it's kind of hard to explain. That vacation was one of the most emotionally draining experiences of my life…  
  
Anyhow I have really gone of on a tangent here…back to Ace. Its not like it was a one-night stand or anything. Mind you, it didn't last much longer than a month and a bit, but we both parted on amicable terms. There was no messy breakup…it just petered out.  
  
Now, all of this happened two months before Flint ever joined GIJOE, and way before anything ever happened between us. In fact, I don't know how he found out about it…I think it might have been Ace doing the ol' bragging rights thing…but now just the mention of the pilot's name gets him all uppity.  
  
When he finds out I went out to the bars with him and Slip Stream AND had to spend the night at the air force base all hell is going to break loose.  
  
Sigh*  
  
Flint is the jealous type.  
  
No, that is putting it too mildly.  
  
Flint gets extremely green-eyed if I show even an inkling of friendly interest in another man. Usually he just sulks and acts like an idiot for a couple of days before he gets over it. There was one time, though, when he lost control and I saw a side of Flint I would rather not ever see again.  
  
God…I was such a fool! I knew what had happened to him. I knew I was playing with fire. It doesn't excuse what he did but I can't help but admit with shame that I hurt him in Sierra Gordo.  
  
Hurt him far more deeply than he ended up hurting me.  
  
Jeez…look at the time! And I have to report to the airstrip at 05:00!!!!!! 


	18. September 27th

1 September 27th  
  
Ok…Now I am really starting to worry.  
  
Not only is Scarlett still missing but now Snakes Eyes has gone after her, leaving in such an angry rush that he nearly knocked me over on his way out of his training room.  
  
He had asked me over to drill me on what I knew…which to be honest was exactly nothing. I mean, I had heard the rumor. Everyone had at this point…it was making the rounds of the PIT, spreading like wildfire.  
  
Scarlett had betrayed the Joes and gone over to COBRA.  
  
Snakes was less than pleased by my response, and if he could he would probably have been yelling at me in frustration. Instead, his signing grew frantic and curt…angry. I was Intelligence after all…I would have to know something about this. To tell you the truth I was pretty pissed myself. He was right…I SHOULD know what was going on…but here I was completely in the dark.  
  
I have my suspicions, however. There is no way in hell Red would ever turn traitor, so that left only one possible scenario. She has infiltrated COBRA on orders from above. Conflicting emotions assailed me at that point…fear and worry for my friend who had been sent on a dangerous mission…and jealousy, because this was the type of thing that fell under MY specialty. Why hadn't I been given the assignment?  
  
In any case, I could see from the fire that began to burn in the ninja's eyes when I mentioned my conclusion that I had confirmed his own fears. Although after what happened with Storm Shadow I am sure there was relief in them as well. I don't know if he would survive long if he found out that Shana had become Mindbender's latest victim.  
  
The man is so devoted to her. As much as I criticize their relationship, I sometimes envy the two of them. There are no barriers. No walls despite Snake's inability to verbalize his love for her. You can see it in his eyes, you can infer it from his body language when he is around her, it screams out with every sacrifice he makes for her.  
  
He would give his life for her, and she would do the same for him.  
  
When he realized I knew very little, he turned and began to pack his things quickly. I knew then that he was going to pull her out, against orders I might add.  
  
As he flew around the room I came to a decision. The woman was like a sister to me, there was no way I was going to leave her to the mercy of the enemy. I grabbed Snakes by the arm and told him that I was going with him, he was going to need backup and I was the one to provide it. He shook his head 'no' but I persisted…insisting that he take me…he just needed to give me a minute to gather my things and I would meet him at the airfield.  
  
He stared at me in silence for a full minute considering my offer before signing quickly.  
  
'No…you stay HERE. You cannot follow me where I am going…'  
  
I told him that was a load of crap and he had better get over himself, 'cause with Stalker off on a mission he was going to need someone to cover his ass. (Hey, I'm swearing an awful lot lately…I must be hanging out with Gung Ho and Leatherneck too much!).  
  
He smiled at me then…and put a hand on my shoulder in gratitude before pointing up.  
  
There, in the rafters…were the members of Ninja Force…silent, armed…and looking very deadly despite the absolutely ridiculous outfits they are forced to wear. It was almost as bad as the neon uniforms from Eco-Force.  
  
Hee Hee, I got a LOT of mileage out of that little hiccup in his Flint's military career. Oh, the zingers I threw in his direction! Hilarious! I nearly choked on my soda trying not to laugh when he walked off that chopper after his battle with Cesspool.  
  
Anyhow, Storm Shadow grinned down at me and said in his matter of fact tone…  
  
'Don't worry…he is not going alone."  
  
I was going to argue with him, but I knew it was futile. He was right, of course…I could fight but I was no martial arts master…I would be a hindrance more than an asset. And I am sure in the back of his mind Snakes was just trying to keep me safe.  
  
Its not like he hasn't pulled something like this on me before. The land mind incident in Grenada comes immediately to mind…  
  
Grenada.  
  
My first real vacation since I joined the Joes.  
  
My first vacation with Flint.  
  
Flint and Scarlett had arranged the whole thing, planning the trip like little co-conspirators despite the fact that they were doing it for entirely different reasons. Shana wanted to get Snakes out of the PIT in order to help him get his mind off Stalker and the others who were being held prisoner in Borovia. We had all been ordered to leave them…and it was killing the man. He and Stalker went way back…  
  
Flint, on the other hand, wanted to spend some time with me away from work, but was too afraid to take do it on his own. He didn't want me to get the wrong impression. According to the 'laws of Flint', there are three things that you didn't do with a woman unless you were very serious.  
  
  
  
Go car shopping together (once you buy a car together you might as well be married)  
  
Meet the parents  
  
Romantic Vacations  
  
Our relationship, as it was, was going well. And when Red finally clued me in to where we were heading, I admit to looking forward to it. I was not disappointed…at least at first…and despite everything that ended up going down I will always remember the little Caribbean hideaway with fondness.  
  
Flint and I had a wonderful time. Once away from GIJOE he became less grating and more relaxed…although he did start pushing Snake's buttons for a little while there on the beach before Scarlett was forced to shut him up lest he get the ninja going on the Borovia thing again.  
  
We walked on the beach, sat by the pool, windsurfed, snorkled…we didn't fight once. Well…there was that one little episode with the octopus. I HATE those things…and of course Flint, being his usual juvenile self, decided to throw one on me while I was half asleep sunning myself on the sand.  
  
The resulting scene caused even Snakes to crack a smile. Scarlett returned the traumatized creature to the water, as Flint was too busy rolling in the sand laughing and I was practically up a tree trying to avoid it. The poor slimy, gross thing swam off in a huff.  
  
I swear I had suction cup marks on my back for hours afterwards.  
  
But what I most remember was one beautiful evening, a clear starry night, on a cliff overlooking the water.  
  
He had dragged me up there after having discovered it earlier in the day when Snakes and he had gone hiking. Neither of them wanted to spend time at the spa with Red and I, and had escaped early in the morning, leaving us alone to do our 'girl' things.  
  
We sat under the stars watching the water, his arms around me as I leaned into him, talking quietly about this and that. I remember, we were discussing literature…his favorite subject, comparing the written word of the novel to the spoken word of the storytelling I so loved.  
  
It was a long-standing debate between us, which was the more powerful medium of expression. As far as I could tell, I was losing the argument…Dash was just so eloquent and passionate when he spoke of his favorite novels, I admit I couldn't quite keep up my end.  
  
That night…he squeezed my arm, flashing me that lop sided grin of his, and asked me to prove my point. Tell him a story…  
  
I hesitated…I don't know why I was nervous. I had listened to enough stories growing up, and I was an actress after all. It's just I had always been on the receiving end, and the whole exercise usually brought back memories of my father. I didn't know if I was ready to let Flint see me vulnerable.  
  
And then there was the whole question as to whether or not I could do the tales justice. So much of the teller goes into each phrase, each word…so much is dependant upon the skill of the 'bard' that it is easy to ruin it. Storytelling was a gift…my father had it, so did his father before him. Did I have it in me?  
  
There was only one way I was going to find out. I looked out on the water and closed my eyes. I thought of the all the legends that I had heard sitting on my father's knee. I remembered all the tales that had been told at the pubs in Ireland late at night…  
  
…The sounds of the water crashing against the shore filled my senses, reminding me of home. The images of the shipwrecks that we had seen on the ocean floor while snorkeling the day before floated through my head…  
  
…and suddenly, I felt the words come to me…I began.  
  
"Contrary to many landsmen's beliefs, it is not the dogwatch, from four to eight at night, that sailors hate; it is the midwatch, from midnight to four in the morning. These are long hours, slow and unchanging, when the seaman's only company is wind and wave, when his shipmates sleep below, when his own strength is at its lowest ebb. Disaster can strike then, borne on the night wind and carried by the changing tide. The midwatch is the time when the sea gives up its dead. For rooted to the ocean floor, never sleeping, never free, drowned sailors rocked in the current, their bodies prey to sea creatures, their souls haunting the surface and begging for release…" (author's note: from Water Spirits – Time Life)  
  
I remember that it was like being in a trance, like I was a vessel for a higher power, some old pagan god who was channeling the story through me. The Gaelic lilt that adorned my speech became thicker as I played with the words, teasing them, shaping them as they came off my tongue…  
  
Dash sat mesmerized as I related to him the tale of the Flying Dutchman…of ghost ships and sailors, calling the living to a watery grave…I told him the tale of the woman who, lantern in hand, haunted the Cornish coast by night…a ghost who left no footsteps in the sand as she passed, tormented by grief and eternally searching for an infant who had died offshore…and I told him of the Kelpie…the water spirit of Scottish rivers and Lochs who stands by the shore in the form of a beautiful horse, waiting for a man unwise enough to mount him…  
  
When I was done we sat in silence, Dash staring at me with can only be described as wonder in his eyes…  
  
I remember feeling embarrassed by it all…as if I had just shown him some deep and very private part of my soul…laid it bare before him. This was not like getting on stage and playing Ophelia in front of 300 people, which I had done many times. This was deeply personal…  
  
Before I could turn away, I felt his hand brush my cheek gently. I looked up at him and he smiled, whispering in his best 'tennis announcer voice'…'Advantage Burnett' before leaning leaned forward to kiss me.  
  
Oh that kiss…there was such feeling to it. Such passion and tenderness…such love and desperation. He had never kissed me like that before…  
  
Too bad Scarlett and Snakes interrupted us! Grrrr…I was a little peeved, and Flint looked…well he looked sheepish…and then…relieved?  
  
Our vacation ended early after that night. Snakes and Red stepped on a land mine during the walk from the beach to the hotel and for all intents and purposes disappeared off the face of the planet. Of course, I know now that this had been planned all along, that the two of them had staged their deaths in order to go and free Stalker, Quick Kick and Snow Job from that Borovian prison camp, but at the time it was devastating.  
  
Flint immediately took charge of the situation and called in the military to search for the bodies. I am glad he was there because I was in complete shock and was having trouble functioning. Two people who I considered to be my closest friends on earth were gone. I couldn't think straight. I couldn't speak. Grief threatened to overwhelm me…  
  
…but I didn't cry. I stood with my head bowed and my arms crossed over my chest, silent…but in control…while Flint called headquarters and spoke with Hawk. Nothing seemed to phase him. He was a pure professional that day, dragging me around with him as he took care of business, every so often looking over his shoulder to see if I was still there…like I was puppy he had to make sure didn't wander off.  
  
That night, though…as we returned to our hotel room…he stood in silence as I sat on the edge of the bed, catatonic. I didn't want him to see me cry…I didn't want him to think I was weak. I didn't want to break down in front of tough-boy Flint, the consummate soldier, the tough guy.  
  
But Flint had left the building. What was left was only Dash…and for the first time in our relationship I was seeing his walls come down…  
  
I knew it the moment he opened his mouth…and in a soft, trembling voice, said my name…  
  
"Alison…"  
  
That was all it took…the tears began to fall and he quickly gathered me up into his arms, whispering words of comfort, soothing me with his voice, with his hands, as he held me close. I felt him shaking as well and looked up to see a single tear falling down his cheek.  
  
That night...as I cried in his arms…we made love. Yes yes I know…I had been sleeping with him up until this point. Why do I keep talking about this like it was the first time?  
  
Because in many ways it was…  
  
Sex with Flint up until that point, albeit wonderful, was just that…sex. It was passionate and wild, it was fun and pleasurable. He was pretty good in bed. Ok…he was very good in bed. That exasperating confidence of his tended to translate well to the bedroom.  
  
But that night…it changed. It became something more. There was a tenderness there, a slow and gentle warmth that I had never felt from him. Each touch was soft and filled with feeling, each kiss was velvet smooth and loving. I was making love to Dashiell…  
  
There is a difference between having sex and making love. And that night we crossed the boundary.  
  
Sigh*  
  
I knew then something had changed between us. I knew then that my feelings for him were more than just those of a casual fling. I think he did too, and it scared him. So in typical Flint fashion when faced with something uncomfortable, he withdrew.  
  
No…that's not fair. To be perfectly honest, I withdrew as well. I think that night scared us both. Neither of us was prepared for the feelings that had seeped forth between us, nor were we ready to deal with them…  
  
The whole month after we got back was a depressing blur. We didn't so much as touch each other the whole time…nervous and awkward like two teenagers caught kissing in the hayloft. I thought for sure it was over right then and there…I mean…it was a fling after all, wasn't it? It wasn't going to last forever.  
  
Funny…that logic didn't stop the hurt.  
  
Then the day came when the prodigal Joes returned. On our way out to the airstrip, I found myself in a tank with Roadblock and Flint. We were silent for while until I decided the whole thing was ridiculous and why shouldn't we be able to speak to each other. We were friends after all…  
  
So I mentioned that I didn't know what to say to Stalker in the others…anything I would say would sound trite in the face of what they had been through. Flint looked up, surprised to hear my voice…and then with a shy smirk said that it was enough that I cared about them…they can tell. He went on and on about caring for people, awkwardly…which was odd given the fact that he is usually so eloquent …and I knew then and there that he wasn't talking about Stalker anymore.  
  
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Roadblock smile and roll his eyes.  
  
Anyhow…any Joe can tell you what happened next. Scarlett and Snakes had exited from the plane and while we walked back to the PIT in companionable silence, Flint blew up at them for leaving us in the dark and making fools of us in Grenada.  
  
OOOOOOO…I was so angry with him. Leave it to Flint to put his foot in his mouth. Damn the man! I don't know what came over me. Was it anger at him for being such a bloody idiot when all I could think of was how happy I was to have my friends back, or was it pent up frustration over the mess our relationship was that whole month? Whatever it was, his big mouth pushed me over the edge.  
  
So what did I do? I decked him.  
  
Yes…that's right…I leveled him flat on the ground with a mean right hook.  
  
Everyone stopped to watch…its not many people who can get away with doing that to Flint. He was a notorious fighter, and very proud. Now, here he was lying on the ground, holding his jaw as he got up to look at me…shock apparent in his eyes.  
  
Before he could react…and I am certain he would have blown a gasket had I given him time to recover…I tore into him. I still remember what I said…  
  
"Snakes and Scarlett did what they did so that you and I wouldn't be implicated! Are you too boneheaded to comprehend that? You talked about caring about people before…don't you understand that they went to a lot of trouble because they cared? Don't you understand that they care about you as much as…as…"  
  
I paused there in alarm. In my angry tirade I had slipped up. I had come close to revealing that I felt for him something more than just a fling…'another guy'. Ah…but Flint was quick on the uptake and with a grin finished my sentence…  
  
"…you do?"  
  
That was all it took…he gathered me into his arms and from then on things went back to normal. Well…not exactly. After that night in Grenada, our 'nocturnal encounters' were forever colored by the sweet affection of that night. Dash had come out of his shell for me, and I don't think Flint knew how to put him back. I don't think he wants to.  
  
Was it love? In hindsight I think it was…at least on my part, but I had yet to admit it to myself. As for Flint… he admitted he cared…but it was also around this time that he made the statement that love has no place in the military.  
  
And at that point…it was enough.  
  
My god…I have written EIGHT PAGES. OH MY GOD! I was supposed to be in Psych Out's office ten minutes ago! Well…when I tell him I was writing in the Journal it should make him happy enough to forget my tardiness… 


	19. October 1st

1 October 1st  
  
"The best laid schemes o mice and men Gang aft a-gley;"  
  
God, I'm starting to sound like Flint…well, at least I am quoting Robbie Burns, which is appropriate seeing as though my plan WAS to be on my way to Scotland right now.  
  
Instead, I am on a plane bound for San Francisco.  
  
I had booked this week off months ago, and had made it as far as connecting flight's airport in Toronto when my pager went off, flashing the emergency code I have come to dread. I called in immediately and Dial Tone patched me through to Hawk.  
  
I was needed in SF immediately. A civilian flight had been booked and was leaving Pearson in two hours.  
  
That was it. My trip was cancelled before it had even begun.  
  
Sigh*  
  
I should be used to it by now. It's my job after all, and I know Hawk wouldn't have called me back unless it was very important. As I watched the news on the TV in one of the airport's cafes, I had an inkling as to what it was…  
  
…a Russian passenger jet had been hijacked on its way out of San Francisco.  
  
No use jumping to conclusions though. I am sure I will be briefed on the situation the moment I land.  
  
I only wish he could have found somebody else this time! This trip is important to me. It is a pilgrimage I made every year…hiking up the highlands to visit my father's grave on the anniversary of his death.  
  
There it is…that little twinge of pain that hits me every time I think about him. Even after all these years, a little over ten now, the emptiness is still there…  
  
I loved my dad so much. Even as a little girl I pretty much worshipped him…hanging on his every word…following him around everywhere like a puppy. I will always remember him as the big, jolly, handsome Scot…the kind, quiet man who was so patient with me, so quick to smile. Not the aged, fragile, sick cancer ridden shell that he became.  
  
Not the man who begged me to help him end his life…to end his suffering…  
  
What was he like? Well…I think I might have mentioned before that he was much older than my mother. He was also so completely different from her in every way that it's a wonder they managed to stay married. There was certainly no love there, at least that I could see. It was a business arrangement more than a marriage.  
  
Lord Andrew Burnett was from an old noble Scottish family, a large clan of fun loving, warm, and loyal people. He grew up in the Highlands of Scotland in a beautiful old manor house and estate with his older sister and baby brother…my Aunt Sarah and Uncle Connor, and was well loved and cared for. The Burnett's were famous for their warmth and hospitality, and their children grew up happy and privileged.  
  
As it is with those of us who grew up in 'moneyed' families, the thing that it gave us that was more valuable than any expensive trinket, was the freedom to pursue our dreams without having to worry about 9 to 5 careers and paying the bills.  
  
My father was no exception. Although he dabbled in many different hobbies and career paths after leaving Eton, it wasn't until his second year at Cambridge that he fell into the passion that would drive him for the rest of his life…  
  
Archeology.  
  
Although he never made any famous discoveries or wrote any important papers, his life truly revolved around his pursuit. I actually don't think he ever wanted to take his amateur hobby to the next level, worried that the pressures of academia would glue him to a desk and classroom when he would much rather be in the field.  
  
Personally, I think he would have made a fantastic professor. I know, he was so patient with me…taught me so much…  
  
Even after he married and I was born…he continued his travels and explorations. My mother didn't complain. I think she was happy to get him out so that she could pursue her own thing. Not to mention the fact he always took me with him, getting me out of her hair.  
  
I traveled everywhere with him…to Scotland and Ireland, to Italy and Greece…exploring the sites and taking in the history and culture of each country. As I got older the trips became more exotic. Israel, Egypt, Jordan, Peru, India…Is it any wonder I picked up so many languages?  
  
Even when I became 'school-aged' and was sent off to Bryn Mawr to board, I always counted the days till July and looked forward to spending summers with my father.  
  
I remember early one summer; Flint, Dusty, Outback and myself were heading back to base after a brief mission somewhere in New Jersey when our jeep passed several busloads of children bound for summer camp. Outback started speaking fondly of his experiences as a child at the survival camp and Dusty piped in and related his own memories of campfires by the lake.  
  
Flint didn't join the conversation, instead staring intently at the road…I knew from the look on his face that camp had probably been about as 'pleasant' an experience for him as school was. I remember reaching out and laying my hand on his arm. He looked up shocked for a moment, and then smiled sadly at me before turning his eyes back to the road…his free slowly, gently covering mine.  
  
Anyhow…when they came to ask me how rich society girl spend their summers, I had to admit I had no clue. Well, I knew what my girlfriends had told me about camp…but I had spent my summers traveling. A month in Scotland visiting family, a month on 'adventuring' with my father…I don't think I missed much on much!  
  
As I got older the trips with my father became fewer and far between. Not that he didn't go, just that I no longer accompanied him as much. Other things started to peak my interest…boys being one, acting being another…and I spent less and less time with my father. I went to summer school at Julliard in NY, visited friends at their cottages in Vermont, hung out on the beach at the Vineyard with some local boys, spent more time in Scotland with my cousins…  
  
Had I known I would have so little time left with him I would never had gone off to do my own thing so often. But that 20/20 hindsight is a killer…I have to keep telling myself that it was a natural process, our growing apart. I was a teenager…I was letting go of the apron strings and testing the waters on my own. But still, I can't help but look back now and regret all the times I told him I was too busy to accompany him on his latest foray, that I had other plans and that the new story would have to wait, that I couldn't go out to dinner with him that night because I had a date with Greg, that cute boy from Exeter…  
  
My father was diagnosed with stomach cancer when I was 19. Unfortunately, the doctors had not caught it early enough and the prognosis was very poor. He lived only 8 months after the initial diagnosis…and those months were riddled with pain. In his last weeks he was so pumped full of morphine that he didn't even recognize me when I came to visit.  
  
There were so many things I wanted to say to him, so many things I wanted to ask him. I wanted him to be in the audience when I dazzled the crowd in The Taming of the Shrew. I looked for him in the crowd when I accepted my Diploma from Julliard, then from Trinity. I needed him to comfort me when I left Shawn…to take me on his lap and tell me I was too good for the likes of him anyhow…and I want to introduce him to Dashiell, who I think he would have loved.  
  
I want to travel with him again and explore the ruins of some ancient city, I want to hear the stories again, hear his voice again…  
  
I want to ask him if he is proud of the woman I have become.  
  
I want to tell him that I love him.  
  
Now all I have left is a cold stone monument in the wilds of Scotland. A tall obelisk carved with an elaborate Celtic weave where all members of our clan, past and present, are buried deep in the soil of their homeland.  
  
I can still hear the haunting sounds of the pipes as the laid him in the ground…  
  
I miss you daddy…  
  
I miss you so much. 


	20. October 4th

October 4th  
  
If I see the interior of ONE MORE commercial jetliner, I think I will kill myself.  
  
Sigh*  
  
I shouldn't complain. I am sitting in first class, making my way to Scotland three days later than I had expected but doing it in style! It's been a while since I have traveled this way…not since I left home to join the Army. Since then its been coach, military transport, chopper, and most recently…in the landing gear of a 747.  
  
You are probably wondering about that last statement. Well…let's just say that my suspicions on the nature of the mission in San Francisco was right on the money.  
  
It seems like a small group of extremists calling themselves the `Leon Trotsky Brigade of the Fourth International' had skyjacked a plane bound for Moscow, and were threatening to `exact revenge' on the heirs of Stalin.  
  
Not COBRA, eh? Well…GIJOE is an elite `anti-terrorist' force. Although most of our battles are against the snakes, there are other smaller yet equally deadly groups that threaten the freedom we all know and love. Our team consist of the best of the best…they send us in for he hard jobs, the missions where failure is not an option.  
  
Stalker and Hawk met me at the Airport and briefed me on the way to `crime scene'. It seems that the hijackers had killed a camera crew that had been following the American Chess team to a huge tournament in the Russian capital and used their id to board the plane. No one was sure what the terrorists' plan was but there was no time to ask questions.  
  
We needed to get on that plane and free the hostages.  
  
I met up with Beachhead and Flint, who had arrived earlier and were examining the evidence. I hadn't seen or spoken to Flint since he took of with Wild Bill over a week ago, but when we saw each other we merely nodded and smiled in greeting. We were on duty after all, and Hawk was right there with us. Although he has turned his head on our relationship, it would certainly be unwise to push it.  
  
Anyhow, the three of us were the intercept team, and were scheduled to hop a super sonic jet to Alaska where we were going to attempt to board and neutralize the terrorists without taking the whole plane down at the same time.  
  
I made it sound so simple! Let me tell you it certainly was NOT.  
  
We reached Anchorage just ahead of the hijacked plane, which had been persuaded to land for maintenance. There, we were given a briefing on the situation…three terrorists, all well armed…and one wrapped in enough explosive to turn the aircraft into confetti. Not good!  
  
We snuck on while the plane was being refueled, hiding out in the landing gear until the 747 took off.  
  
Then we went to work.  
  
I torched my way into the luggage compartment, where I changed into a stewardess's uniform and waited for the signal to go. It was there that I learned that this mission was do or die. This was a suicide run… the idiots were going to crash the plane into a Soviet chemical warfare depot. Not only would the crash kill everyone on board, including the three of us…but the resulting gas cloud could end up slaughtering thousands of innocent civilians.  
  
That is if we even made it that far. The Soviet's were sure to intercept us before we got within range. Their MIGS would shoot us down for sure.  
  
If I told you I was cool and collected from that point forward I would be lying through my teeth. I was nervous as hell, but I managed to get the job done.  
  
We all did.  
  
I snuck into the plane through a panel under one of the passenger seats and took my place in the aisle, using all my acting and Russian language skills to play the part of a typical soviet stewardess.  
  
A typical stewardess with a TAZER!  
  
I blasted the dynamite clad `Roger' with it…paralyzing him long enough for Flint and Beachhead to take out the other two terrorists. Then, I placed a satchel charge on the hatch and blew `bomb boy' right off the aircraft.  
  
I also managed to get myself locked in the bathroom!  
  
Ugh! I had gone in there to change back into my uniform. I know it could probably have waited until we got back to SF but Flint was beginning to get on my nerves…teasing me by whispering playfully in my ear of his stewardess fantasy…  
  
Beachhead was going to blast me out but the aircraft had taken enough damage already so I had to wait until we landed. How embarrassing!  
  
So, how did I end up here on British Airways sipping champagne?  
  
Well, Flint had promised Beachhead a steak dinner so after we had wrapped up with Hawk and Stalker, all of us hit the town. We had a wonderful time…well at least everyone else did. Unfortunately, as the meals were being served, Hawk asked me how my RIO re-quals had gone, and had Ace and I ended up wrecking another Skystriker.  
  
Oh boy…  
  
You should have seen the look on Flint's face when he heard that name. He looked up sharply at me and a dark cloud descended over his eyes.  
  
"You didn't mention you were with the flyboys last week…" he asked through clenched teeth, trying to remain calm in front of the others.  
  
I, of course, immediately went on the defensive…and snapped back. "I didn't think it was important…"  
  
"Didn't think it was be important!?" His voice was beginning to rise and thankfully Stalker came to the rescue with a tactful and quick change of subject.  
  
It was too late, though. Flint's jealousy was stirred, and he pretty much sulked the entire evening, every so often giving me a glare across the table, which I did my best to ignore.  
  
It only got worse when we got back to the hotel. We all had separate rooms, and though I had been expecting to share mine with Flint that night…it had been a while after all…the `Ace' issue had pretty much guaranteed I would be sleeping alone.  
  
He did burst into the room at one point, and we got into a heated argument about the whole thing. Ok…not an argument…an all-out fight. Thank god the walls were thick, or the entire floor would have been subject to our tirade.  
  
Finally, I had had enough. I told him if he couldn't trust me that he had better leave, because I had nothing more to say to him. I had enough on my mind right now, it was a bad time for me and he knew it. I didn't need this…I didn't deserve this…I was trying desperately not to cry but my eyes were beginning to tear up.  
  
When he saw the look that came over me his face softened, but it was too late…I was so angry…I was already an emotional wreck…this just sent me right over the edge… I hate crying…I hate showing him weakness. So instead of tears I became enraged.  
  
I was so wound up that I forcibly shoved him out the door and slammed it in his face.  
  
I am always vulnerable the first week of October…the week my father died…that is why I usually escape to Scotland…but instead there I was stuck in a damn hotel room with a selfish, jealous man.  
  
I know why it hurts him…I know why he gets this way. But I didn't care anymore.  
  
Needless to say he did not return.  
  
I cried myself to sleep.  
  
But long after midnight, I awoke to find him sneaking back into my room. I was exhausted and still angry so I pretended to be asleep so he would go away. I watched in the dark as he adjusted the alarm clock next to my bed and placed something on the night table.  
  
I shut my eyes as he turned to me and soon felt his breath on my cheek, felt his hand stroke my hair, felt his lips brush softly against my skin before he turned and made his way back out into the hall.  
  
I was so tired that I actually did fall asleep at his touch, only to be awoken a few hours later by the alarm.  
  
There, on my night table, was a single rose and an envelope containing a folded piece of paper wrapped around a first class ticket to Scotland. I was booked on a flight leaving in three hours.  
  
On the paper, in Flint's elaborate handwriting was this…  
  
"My shame and guilt confound me. Forgive me, my love. If hearty sorrow be sufficient ransom for offence I tender it here. I do as truly suffer." –D  
  
That silly, exasperating, sweet man! He rarely apologizes...but when he does it is always heartfelt and sincere.  
  
He remembered too late what week this was, but remember it he did. He must have spent a fortune on these last minute tickets!  
  
I went to thank him and give him a cheque for the cost of the flight but I found he had already checked out. Beachhead and he had been called off in the wee hours of the morning and were presently on a chopper heading towards Mexico.  
  
The pilot has just announced that we will be landing in 15 minutes.  
  
You know, I always come here alone. I prefer to do this alone…to be `near' my father, to spend time with my family.  
  
To grieve.  
  
But sitting here holding the note that Dash left for me, well, I can't help but wish he was here with me. 


	21. October 15th

October 15th,  
  
Well…I'm back at work at GIJOE headquarters after a relaxing trip home. The minute I got out of the jeep and into the PIT I was on duty and sent out to patrol with Spirit despite my jet lag. No rest for the weary!  
  
So much for a gradual transition back to work!  
  
When I returned from my rounds for lunch I found Flint waiting for me outside the mess. He had just flown in from a mission in Asia where, he told me in a gruff tone, he, Beachhead, Lowlight and the others had been 'used' by the spooks. He couldn't tell me more than that…it was one of those 'don't ask don't tell deals' that our team is assigned to every so often…but from the look on his face he was less than thrilled about the whole thing despite its success.  
  
Flint hates the CIA with a passion. Although he will follow orders and attempt not to make too much of a fuss, he will never trust them entirely. That's probably why Hawk sent him out to lead that mission…knowing Flint would never let down his guard around an agent and will diligently keep his eye out for any sign of foul play.  
  
Anyhow…he sent me off to get changed and then dragged me out to a private spot under the open sky just inside the perimeter where we did some Tai Chi.  
  
I knew then that the mission had gotten to him and Flint really needed to cool off.  
  
Snakes introduced me to the relaxation technique around the time I first joined the Joes. The tension of the job is a shock to the system despite any training and experience you might have with the military. Given that I was still relatively 'green' compared to the others, having been recruited to Joe after only four years in the Army, the pressure hit me harder than most. Scarlett suggested Tai Chi as a way to deal with it, and sent me to the ninja for lessons.  
  
Tai Chi can best be described as a moving form of yoga and meditation combined. There are a number of so-called forms which consist of a sequence of movements. Many of these are originally derived from the martial arts although the way they are performed in Tai Chi is slowly, softly and gracefully with smooth and even transitions between them.  
  
For me the focus in doing them is not martial, but as a meditative exercise for the body and mind. For people like Snakes the combat aspects of Tai Chi are of considerable interest. But no matter your focus, it helps foster calm and tranquility.  
  
Needless to say with my dance background from Julliard, the graceful movements of Tai Chi appealed to me immediately and I caught on quickly. Learning to do the 'forms' correctly provided a practical avenue for working such things as balance, alignment, fine-scale motor control, rhythm of movement…all things so important to a dancer.  
  
It never fails to relax me.  
  
I in turn introduced it to Flint…who surprisingly enough became quite good. He doesn't engage in it as often as I do, but when something is really bothering him and he can't or won't talk about it, he will go through a routine until he gets himself back under control.  
  
I love to watch him move through the different motions. He wears only his combat pants and his dog tags and exudes a masculine grace and strength with every movement, his muscles defined and tight, his eyes distant. I actually have to struggle to concentrate on my own movements, preferring to admire him…  
  
…Yeah…drool over him is more like it Burnett! Admit it, even after all this time he is still has quite an affect on you.  
  
In any case, I am glad I did finally manage to focus. I needed to wrap my head around some things as well…concerns that my trip had brought to the forefront.  
  
Although it's always good to get away to rest and relax, clear your head…to tell you the truth, when this vacation was coming to an end, I didn't really want to come back.  
  
Yeah…I know…I guess I miss my old life sometimes. Lately, though…I've been thinking about it more often. I've been in the army for almost a decade, with the Joes for half that time…I wonder sometimes if it is time to move on?  
  
I love my career. I love being a part of this team, but being 'on overdrive' twenty four seven, risking your life every other day…it's a high- pressure job. And to tell you the truth, I'm not getting any younger.  
  
I'm going to be 31 this year and for some shocking and surprising reason, I can feel my biological clock starting to tick despite my horror at the prospect of having children. I don't know when it got jump started, but it strengthened as I watched my cousin Duncan and his fiancée…who is 4 year my junior and yet he is already talking about family! Then there is Connor, who is my age and is married…his wife now 4 months pregnant.  
  
They know better than to ask about my personal life, but even though it was never brought up, I started to ask MYSELF some very hard questions…  
  
I had always thought it would be nice to live my life like my Aunt Sarah. She never married, choosing instead to remain free to pursue her travels and career. She always seemed so happy and content with her lot. She had always had my cousins and I if she felt the urge to hang with children, and there was always a gentlemen friend to be had when she needed that type of companionship. She is an attractive woman even now!  
  
She had her art, her dogs, her home, her garden, her friends…what more could she ask for?  
  
Quite a bit, it seems.  
  
The day before I left, Aunt Sarah and I went for a walk with her dogs, hiking through the countryside enjoying the brisk morning air and the colorful sights of autumn. About an hour into it, she broke the silence with a statement.  
  
"I do have regrets, you know…"  
  
I turned to her in surprise and she smiled sadly and began to tell me that if she could go back and do it all again she would have married and had children of her own. She is happy with her life, but she can't help but wonder what it would have been like had she let go of the fierce independent streak that pushed her away from having any serious relationships or a family of her own.  
  
As much as she hated to admit it, she envied my father who had me…and she envied my Uncle Connor as well, who has now been married for almost 35 years to a wonderful woman and had two beautiful boys.  
  
I really didn't know what to say to her. Its not like I had never considered marriage. Shawn and I had spoken of it many times, and were in fact planning to get engaged as soon as I finished up my degree. You know what happened there…  
  
And as far as children were concerned…well…petrifying would be a mild way of describing what that meant to me. And yet I found myself watching my cousin's wife with more than just mild curiosity and a fair bit of fear…but with something akin to envy…almost yearning…  
  
"You are not at all like her, you know…" As if reading my thoughts, as she always seemed to be able to do, my Aunt took my hand and squeezed it. "…you are more Burnett than Hart."  
  
I smiled then, thinking that this woman was more a mother to me than Katherine Hart ever was. We sat in silence for a while before she continued.  
  
"I know your career is important to you, and though I admit to being not quite sure of what it is you are doing over there in America, I know that you love it. You have grown into a confident, strong, beautiful woman…and I do suspect that the military has had a good deal to do with it. But don't let it stop you from pursuing other things. Don't let it or your own fears stop you from building a family of your own while you are still young and able to do so."  
  
A family of my own…  
  
Is that even possible? Could I do it? Could I be a good wife…a good mother?  
  
And wouldn't that require a willing partner?  
  
Flint is lying next to me asleep, having come over to my quarters after we finished up our duties.  
  
Every day I spend with him lately, I find myself loving him more. It seems that after admitting my feelings to myself I have somehow opened the gate and allowed that love to grow stronger…despite my better judgment. Sometimes the feeling is so strong that it hurts…and that growing intensity is also causing the disappointment and hurt he inadvertently causes me on occasion to strengthen as well.  
  
Sometimes I feel like our relationship like a roller coaster … and I can find no way of getting off. Extreme ups and downs…terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.  
  
Even after all this time there is so much that has been left unsaid… So much that has yet to be resolved…I can't help but feel that I am heading for heartbreak…  
  
What is going to happen to us when one or both of us leave the team? What is going to happen to our relationship if GIJOE disbands? Can it survive in the real world? Would he even try to keep it going? Does he see a future for us?  
  
Does he want a family?  
  
Does he love me?  
  
Does he even want to try marriage again?  
  
Yes…again.  
  
I guess I have let it out of the bag. Dashiell has been married before. I don't know why I found it so surprising when I finally found out, he is 35 and it would be odd if he didn't have a 'history' with another woman. It's just that he NEVER talks about it.  
  
EVER.  
  
Not even now.  
  
I learned about Karen when one of his brother's slipped up in a conversation he was having with me over the phone, and I pumped the rest of the details out of Roadblock, who was very reluctant to share the story with me at all.  
  
Flint had always been a bit of a ladies man…picking up beautiful woman here and there, never really committing to anyone. That is until he met Karen Singer. Marvin told me he loved her from the moment he laid eyes on her…  
  
They were married after one short year of dating, and Dash was devoted to her. He was still an arrogant bad ass, but Marvin tells me that with her he was such a pussycat that I would hardly have recognized him.  
  
One thing you should know about Flint…he is extremely loyal. Once you are on his 'A' list he will stand by you through thick and thin, he will defend you to the death and never betray your trust.  
  
He demands the same of his friends.  
  
Karen, unfortunately, didn't measure up.  
  
About two years into the marriage, Flint came home early from a mission with Duke's special force and found her with another man. A CIA agent named Devon Greer who had been a close friend of his since university.  
  
The divorce was finalized a short month later. Apparently Karen didn't even apologize…didn't even try to get him back…  
  
All Dash ever said to his friends after the papers were signed was "Thank god there were no kids…" That was it.  
  
He never spoke of her again.  
  
Marvin tells me that Dash was never the same since. He went back to being his usual arrogant self, to being the ultimate ladies man and kick-ass soldier. He dove into his career with an almost single minded intensity, driving through everything he did with flair and style.  
  
His heart was broken though…not to mention his pride had taken a crushing blow. He never let himself get close to any other woman. They were short- term companions only. Sure he could be charming…sure he loved to party...but it was superficial. He would never admit it but he had been hurt so badly that the scars were still with him now, so many years later.  
  
According to Marvin, I am the first woman he has been remained involved with for more than 6 months. That with me he sometimes sees the old Dash…the sensitive romantic that had all but died the day he found his wife in bed with another man.  
  
In fact, that was the only reason he was telling me all this. He wanted me to understand where his friend was coming from. He wanted me to be patient with him…and not get myself too frustrated when it seemed like the man didn't care whether I lived or died. Roadblock saw something between us. He didn't want me giving up…  
  
He also wanted me to understand why Flint always got so jealous. Can you blame him?  
  
I'm sorry Roadblock. I betrayed your trust didn't I? That time in Sierra Gordo…I played with Dash's heart that day…I used what you told me in confidence as a weapon.  
  
You tried to warn me. You told me to stop…but I didn't listen!  
  
Sigh* I can't talk about this anymore…I just wish sometimes…no…I can't…yes...I admit it…I wish I knew what Karen had that I don't. I am jealous of her…jealous that she had his heart and angry as hell at her for trampling all over it.  
  
And I wonder what went on behind the scenes…what secret is Dash still holding inside?  
  
Will he ever get over it? He trusts me with his life…why can't he trust me with his heart?  
  
Because you pull things like you did with Gorky…that's why stupid!  
  
I had better get some sleep. I have a meeting with Chuckles tomorrow. He's our new covert ops guy. He's pretty nice…I just wish he wasn't horning in on my territory. 


	22. October 20th

October 20th,  
  
Ahhhhhh….  
  
Hot bubble bath nirvana!  
  
Yup…that's where I am right now. Lying in a tub of steaming hot water, Crabtree and Evelyn 'Summer Hill' bubbles rising high over the rim. Candles are burning all around me and I have shoved a jazz/blues CD into Red's stereo. The sounds Ray Charles are wafting through the small opening in the door.  
  
Boy…I needed this! Leatherneck put a bunch of us through Marine hand-to- hand combat exercises and the knots in my muscles, and bruises on my side are threatening to erupt into the sharp pain so familiar to my body since I first became a soldier.  
  
Hopefully, a couple of Advil and this makeshift spa will curb it some. And the scented candles should help clear my head…  
  
I had been a pretty intense workout. Flint had been my sparing partner this time, which is unusual…he tends to team himself up with Duke as the two of them fight it out in their never-ending pissing contest. It all seems so good-natured on the surface, but the look in Flint's eye and the intensity of Duke's 'attacks' point to a deeper conflict.  
  
As for myself, Ripcord has been my sparring buddy since Airborne school. The two of us are quite good friends, although since joining the Joe team we have spent less and less time together.  
  
Note to self: Go out for lunch with Ripcord…you have been neglecting that friendship too much of late.  
  
Anyhow…when the class started and we began breaking up into our 'teams', Leatherneck decided, in his infinite wisdom, to shuffle us all around. Apparently we were getting too familiar with our present opponents and needed a challenge. My challenge ended up being Flint, much to my surprise and his chagrin.  
  
We started off slowly at first, reluctantly. I wasn't quite sure how to handle it and neither was he it seemed. I had seen Flint fight…and I knew he was holding back. It irked me! Was it because I was of the fairer sex? Was he afraid to 'hurt' me?  
  
So off course, in my anger at what I perceived to be his false perception of me as 'weak'…or at least 'weaker' than he…I attacked full on, taking him by surprise…taking him down.  
  
He recovered quickly and shook himself out of whatever 'gentlemanly ideals' that were stopping him from going on the offensive. He smirked humorlessly and with a glint in his eye, threw himself into the fight.  
  
He is strong. Much stronger than I am…but I have speed and flexibility on my side. For a while there we were evenly matched, and although I was pushing myself harder than he was I knew that I could take him down again if I needed to.  
  
This was fast becoming a contest between us, and my cutthroat drive to win was beginning to take over as I tried to gain the advantage. Flint would have none of it…  
  
…then it happened.  
  
I felt victory near and was feeling pretty good about myself… I had him in a chokehold and was struggling to keep him down….when Duke strode by and taunted…  
  
"Looks like the great, manly Dashiell Faireborn is about to be taken down by a woman…who would have thought…"  
  
At the sergeants words the tables were horribly turned…I felt his body tense underneath me and suddenly I was fighting for my life. God, it was like raw power unleashed…he had been holding back with me. No…it was more than that. His eyes had glazed over and he was pouring it on, oblivious to the others who had stopped to watch us go at it.  
  
I was holding my own but was rapidly weakening. I couldn't possibly hold him off, and he was beginning to scare me. He wouldn't stop coming…oh god, it was like Sierra Gordo all over again.  
  
Leatherneck noticed something was amiss and immediately got between us…but Flint was too far gone. He swung around and was about to lash out at the older Marine when I yelled his name…  
  
"Dash! Stop!"  
  
My voice seemed to break through whatever was clouding his mind and he froze for second, breathing heavily from the exertion before turning to me, fixing me with scared eyes, his face locked in an expression of complete horror at what had just happened.  
  
It looked like he was about to say something but the words wouldn't come out. He swung around quickly and with a angry glare at his friend strode right out of the gym. I wanted to follow him but Duke held me back…  
  
"No. Not yet. Let him go…"  
  
I learned later that he had gone straight up to the surface, jumped in his car and taken off in a cloud of dust and sand…he has yet to return. If Duke hadn't ordered me to stay put I would probably be out on the road looking for him.  
  
I am worried about him. I want so much to comfort him, but at the same time I am grateful to Duke for holding me back in the gym. The memories of what happened only a few short months ago are still so fresh in my mind, scaring me.  
  
It's time I wrote this down.  
  
I haven't spoken to anyone about it. Not Scarlett, not Snakes, not Courtney, not even Psych-Out. It has been sitting heavily on my heart for so long…I need to get it out.  
  
It had been a top secret, ultra sensitive mission…so secret that even Hawk and General Hollingsworth didn't know anything about the sealed orders that we were to open once in flight. A transport plane was to rendezvous with us in less than an hour.  
  
So much rode on the successful completion of this mission that Flint, Roadblock, Muskrat and I were under a lot of pressure from the get go. Flint especially, who was slated to lead the whole thing.  
  
On top of it all…imagine our surprise when, upon boarding, we found ourselves face to face with Daina and Dragonsky of the Oktober Guard! It seems that we were to be teamed up with the Soviets on this one, advising a rebel coalition in Sierra Gordo as to how to take back their country from COBRA.  
  
From my intelligence gathering over the years, I knew immediately that what we were going to do was useless. Once we ousted COBRA, civil war would certainly rip the region apart as the warring factions went for each other's jugulars.  
  
Orders were orders, however…and as they say, "Ours is not to wonder why, ours is not to make reply, ours is but to do or die…"  
  
…and at that point I had noticed that a very handsome blonde Soviet Naval infantryman was giving me the once over. His name was Lt Gorky, and he was as charming as he was good looking.  
  
I am used to men flirting with me. As I said before, it comes in the job description…woman in the military and all…but since I had taken up with Flint that game had all but been shut down. None of the Joes would so much as look at me sideways. It was as though Flint had somehow lifted his leg and marked his territory.  
  
Now, here was someone who had no idea about my relationship, who was showing some real interest in me. It was flattering to say the least.  
  
I guess Flint isn't the only one with an oversized ego.  
  
Flint, of course, noticed right away and began to 'posture'. In fact, he was about to shut Gorky down before the man even got off the ground when our aircraft came under attack. COBRA had hit us with a missile and proceeded to pepper us with machine gun fire, taking out the pilots in one lethal shot.  
  
It seems that our old enemy knew we were coming. We were sold out…of that I am sure!  
  
Had it not been for Gorky and I taking control of the plane and pulling some pretty fancy maneuvers on the runway, we would all be dead.  
  
As it was, we still had a ways to go to escape enemy pursuit. Flint drove the Desert Fox expertly, following closely behind the Soviet tank…concentrating hard on avoiding Darklon's attack as we plowed through the jungle at high speed. I guess it wasn't too difficult for him to control he vehicle, cause he was able to grumble at me about Gorky, who was blowing me kisses from up ahead.  
  
Then Flint did something that triggered my anger but good. The BMP that was carrying the Guard took a hit and Flint decided to leave our Russian counterparts behind…spewing off some lame excuse for a command decision about taking care of his own people.  
  
Well…rank and protocol aside…I blasted him right then and there…  
  
"When you throw in with people, you have to stick by them…even if you see one of them as a threat to your macho self image…"  
  
He was as angry as I had ever seen him…but it worked. He did go back for them. Mind you, he wasn't about to let it rest…pulling some show off testosterone move where he jumped a ravine in the overloaded Desert Fox, nearly splattering us all against a cliff face in process…  
  
From then on the situation between us just got worse and worse…  
  
Confession here…I have to admit that I was mad at him before Gorky even entered the picture. This mission happened not too long after the scene outside the New York City hospital. I mean…here I find myself falling in love with him, and all he seems to want is sex. Nothing more…  
  
To top it all off, just before going into the briefing with the Generals, I accidentally overheard him talking to Muskrat about me…about 'us'…in that infuriating macho tone.  
  
"Nah…Muskrat, we work fine together…I mean that whole thing, its nothing serious. No commitments…she knows that…it's all in good fun. Keep it light, I always say…"  
  
Oh boy did that hit hard…  
  
Combine all this with his juvenile behavior around Gorky and the rapidly worsening situation on our mission…it became a powder keg waiting for a spark…  
  
…and I had to go and strike the match!  
  
This is difficult for me to admit, but sometimes when I am upset or angry I seem to regress into the most juvenile of behaviors. I was mad at Flint, so as the fouled up mission droned ever onwards, I decided to 'punish' him by playing it out with the poor Russian right in front of his eyes.  
  
As well, some part of me was reveling in the fact that the man was paying attention to me. Was acting all jealous because of ME.  
  
But as Roadblock told me point blank when he noticed what was going on…  
  
"You don't want that kind of attention from him…"  
  
Marvin had read me like a book, regardless of the injury that caused us to have to bandage up his eyes. As we sat together during a rest from our forced march, he began to scold me over what I was doing…  
  
"I know what you are up to Jaye…I can hear it. Stop playing with the man. You are not being fair. You know what he went through with Karen…back off now…"  
  
I told him to stay out of it…but he cut me off…  
  
"No…I'm warning you Jaye…you are playing with fire. You have no idea at the Pandora's box you are opening up here! Its not worth it…you don't want this kind of attention from him. Believe me."  
  
He was hitting close to home…he knew what I was up to. It irked me…I got up to leave but even blind he was able to grab my arm in his firm grip and stop me.  
  
"I mean it…I won't let you hurt my friend, he's been through enough…and I won't let your irrational behavior get you hurt as well…"  
  
I wish I had listened to him.  
  
Late one night as we set up camp and I prepared to take first watch, Gorky came up to me and brushed his hand gently across my cheek and told me to be careful, called me 'HIS pretty Americana'. Before I knew it Flint was on top of him.  
  
It took three men to pull him off…another two to hold Gorky back from retaliating. As they both were dragged back into their corners I glared sharply at Flint and stomped off to take up my position…more shaken than I was willing to admit.  
  
For Flint to loose it like that on a mission…for him to attack what amounted to one of his 'men' at least for this engagement was so improbable the chance of it occurring was almost non-existent.  
  
And yet it had just happened!  
  
And I was the cause.  
  
I didn't know it then, but the worse was yet to come…  
  
That night, as I sat by myself…trying desperately to concentrate on the task at hand while my mind went over and over what had just happened…I felt a rough hand on my shoulder and swung around to find Flint facing me. His eyes were dark, frightening…  
  
"When you sleep with me, you sleep with no one else!" he growled…  
  
At those words my guilt gave way to fury. How dare he! How dare be so possessive of me when he himself said it was nothing serious! When he himself refuses to commit.  
  
How dare he assume that I would jump into bed with the first man that gave me a little attention, that I would be so callous. Meanwhile, a niggling little voice in the back of my head whispered to me that after my behavior these past two days what else could he think I was doing!  
  
He snorted when he heard me…anger, jealously, and fear had all combined to make a potent blend within him…stirred expertly by yours truly  
  
"Oh Please," he snarled, "you know he wanted you, and all that flirting...you were ready to give him…"  
  
Whatever else he was about to say was lost as my fist came up and took a swing at his jaw. Unlike that time outside the PIT, this time he was ready for it…he caught my arm expertly and twisted it painfully.  
  
But I wasn't about to cry out…instead I kept pushing him. The fear was still there deep within me. This man was not the Flint I knew…this man was someone I had never met. Unfortunately, that fear came out as a red rage…  
  
"You arrogant son of a bitch…are you so insecure that you can't stand to see me so much as talk to someone else without flying off the handle. By the way, Faireborn, that was real smooth back there…real smooth…you must be itching for a Court Marshall!"  
  
"This isn't about me, it's about you and that Russian…" he practically spit out the last word, not even able to bring himself to say his name…squeezing my arm until I felt like it might break.  
  
I cut him off then, and said something that even now I wish I could take back. Something that I knew would hurt him. I have mentioned before that I had a talent for using words as weapons…my language skills given a deadly, venomous twist…well at this point, red had so glazed my vision that I was blind to the consequences of what I was about to do…I don't remember exactly what I said…I think its best that I have blocked it out…but the gist of it was this…  
  
"NO…it's all about you, Dashiell. You and your bloody 'issues'! Your pride! Get over yourself, you bloody bastard. Do I look like Karen to you?"  
  
He staggered back as if I had punched him, his eyes wide with shock. He didn't know Roadblock had told me about his past…he certainly had never told me. And with that came the realization that I had done what I did with Gorky…played with him like I did…with the full knowledge of what he had gone through…  
  
…that I KNEW it would hurt him and went ahead with it anyhow…that the one person he trusted ripped his wounds wide open with singular and vindictive purpose.  
  
He began to breath heavily, struggling to regain control. He grabbed his head in his hands and began to physically shake.  
  
Oh god…what had I done?  
  
But before I could apologize, he was on me…moving so quickly I had no time to defend myself.  
  
I don't even think Dash had any idea what came over him then. I don't think he knew what he was doing until it was too late. All he knew is that I had hurt him…and he wanted to hurt me back.  
  
He was attacking me…but not like the sparring in the gym…this was sexual…  
  
And as afraid as I was…I felt myself responding.  
  
His mouth was pressed so hard against mine that I tasted the copper sting of blood. His hands roamed my body, bruising…his teeth biting. My nails raking across his back, leaving large welts wherever they went. He ripped my clothing from my body… my skin, once worshipped, was attacked with a primal need too intense to ignore…too frighteningly strong to fight.  
  
This was not the pleasure I had come to expect whenever they came together. The desire, the affection then was always of mutual need and satisfaction…of shared pleasure in each other.  
  
This was something entirely different.  
  
I was terrified…but I was aroused…the mission was forgotten; the enemy around us was forgotten…our companions, just short distance away, were forgotten. There was only us and this…this fire!  
  
His hand grabbed my hair and twisted sharply, pulling my head back. I saw his eyes then…and they were dark storm clouds of desire and despair…of fury and hurt. Before I could react he had pushed me down onto the hood of Desert Fox and pinned me there, standing over me in dominance, in all his masculine glory…his body language as clear as a wolf's…screaming to anyone watching…  
  
Mine.  
  
Roadblock had warned me, and I didn't listen. I had unleashed something. Something I couldn't possibly control. All that hurt and anger that Dash held expertly inside was coming out in a flood. It had been buried, festering for so long I don't think even Flint could control it.  
  
That night, I saw the darkness inside the man I had grown to love…  
  
Suddenly…I felt him backing off…waking up from whatever state I had put him in…pushing all the hurt back down, pushing down the anger…and soon it would be buried again…sitting dormant as it ate away at his soul.  
  
Then, before I could stop myself, I heard my own voice in the night…heard myself snarl something as I pulled him closer. It seems he had awoken a dark, self-destructive part of me as well…I had discovered I had power over him after all…and the devil sitting on my shoulder was screaming for me to use it…to use him like he was using me!  
  
With a primal growl he took me then…quickly and roughly. And as he reached his peak I heard his voice whisper…thick and rough…shaking…  
  
"Karen…why?"  
  
I shudder even now when I remember it…sitting here in my bath, the actual incident months in the past. How it hurt to hear him call her name, even in anger…even in despair.  
  
We did not speak for the rest of the mission, both of us lost in our own personal misery…both of us angry at ourselves for letting the situation get so out of control… even angrier that neither of us knew how to say those two simple little words that would begin the healing process…  
  
…I'm sorry.  
  
Gorky was forgotten. I think Flint had gotten his message across loud and clear…but more likely was that I ceased to respond to him. He was nothing to me other than a fellow soldier…one that I had used for my own ends.  
  
When we finally returned to base I sequestered myself in my room for days, not willing to see and talk to anyone. I made up some excuse about being tired and feeling ill…needing rest after a long and stressful mission. It was a likely story, and no one was the wiser.  
  
No one but Roadblock, who dropped by as soon as he was released from the infirmary and for the first time in my life I broke down and cried in a fellow Joes arms. He never said he told me so, never chided me for betraying his confidence…merely comforted me like the sweet friend that he is. I didn't deserve it.  
  
Later…as I calmed myself and felt myself drifting off for the first time in days, comforted by his quiet presence and support, I felt him shift and get up, mumbling something to someone that I couldn't quite make out in my sleep addled and exhausted mind.  
  
Then I felt a new presence, felt someone else sit down on the bed and gather me in his arms.  
  
It was Dashiell…  
  
I struggled against him for only a moment before breaking down and letting him hold me. His eyes and face told me that he had had as bad a time these past few days as I had.  
  
As we sat there, I saw him go into his back pocket and pull out an envelope and tossed whatever it contained in front of me. I bent to pick it up and froze. It was a picture of a younger him and a beautiful blond woman sitting on a dock overlooking a lake somewhere, with a black Labrador Retriever lying between them.  
  
They looked so happy.  
  
"That picture was taken right after we were married." I heard his voice, soft and tentative…as if searching, struggling to find the words, to speak of something he would rather forget. "We had gone to the cottage after I got a rare two week leave pass from the army. We had such a good time…after it ended with her…after she…" he paused and swallowed hard before continuing "…I used to carry this picture around with me…trying to hold on to the memories. Wishing that I could somehow transport myself back in time to that moment and stay there forever…"  
  
"…I don't carry it with me anymore. I haven't in a while…"  
  
That was all that was said on the matter of his ex-wife…but it I knew how hard it was for him to even speak of it. I knew how to read behind the lines with him, and that whole conversation spoke volumes. It was enough.  
  
It took months for us to build our friendship, our relationship, back up after what happened in Sierra Gordo. Even now it still haunts us both. Even now I don't think he entirely trusts me, or himself for that matter.  
  
Even now I remember that night with dread, despite the fact that in the years that I have known him he has NEVER given me any reason to fear him.  
  
You have to understand what I saw that night…what I released. Dash calls it his personal 'Heart of Darkness', using the title of Joseph Conrad's novel as a way to describe the shadow he holds deep inside.  
  
We are warriors. We are trained to fight, to kill…and to do that requires that we tap into some deep inside ourselves, something sinister and primal…bringing it closer to the surface than it should be. Anyone who has been in battle has experienced it...some can control it better than others.  
  
It's like what Mutt says about his dog Junkyard…or any guard/war dog for that matter. He trains it, works it…plays with its wild nature…its violent side. Drawing it out slowly and surely…teaching it to attack, to bite, to maul, to hunt…but at the same time struggling to keep that side of the animal under control.  
  
It takes a strong willed, stable dog and an experienced handler to find the balance between the two sides…  
  
It's like that with us. We struggle to contain the very nature that makes us efficient warriors. That night I pushed him over the edge and he lost control. We both lost control…  
  
I also learned that I had power over him. Like Karen, I had the power to hurt him, to drive him over the edge…and he knew it now. I think that frightened him more than anything. He had struggled to remain distant for so long, not ever wanting to be that vulnerable again…and now I had come along and thrown it all out the window.  
  
I n fact I am surprised that he is still with me. That we are still together. Maybe that speaks more to the depth and strength of our relationship than anything. Strength that I tend to take for granted.  
  
Sigh*  
  
So now you know. Now you know a bit about the man they call Flint…now you have been told pretty much all there is to know about my relationship with Dashiell Faireborn. The good and the bad. Judge us…judge me if you will…for good or for ill.  
  
Is it worth it? Is being with him worth all the pain…all the struggle? Should I just let it go and get on with my life? Should I just walk away?  
  
You would ask me that question? Would tell me that I am wasting my time even knowing that sitting quietly beside the tub is a man that I love more than my own life? A man who no matter how hard he tries to fight it I sense needs me as well…  
  
Yes…that's right…while I was writing Dash returned and sat himself down quietly next to me on the bath mat and closed his eyes, taking in the calming atmosphere, listening to the music…waiting patiently for me to finish.  
  
Destructive, unhealthy, doomed…call the relationship what you will. He needs me…I need him….  
  
And now that I am finished…he will have me.  
  
  
  
Author's note:  
  
The specific line 'When you sleep with me, you sleep with no one else..." and the general idea of the scene that followed borrowed from a JAG fic that I read at the Underthecovers site. Although it was a Harm/Mac thing it screamed Flint and Jaye to me so I 'borrowed' from it here.  
  
The title was 'You Only Hurt The Ones You Love' and the author was Christine. Very talented writer...very original approach overall to the story...which is much much more than this little scene. 


	23. October 29th

October 29th,  
  
It seems as though my past has finally caught up with me.  
  
I was walking into the mess with Flint, Low Light and Gung-Ho, prepared to sit down to a quiet dinner, when I spotted her standing with Snake-Eyes and Scarlett in the queue. Red and Snakes had returned a few days ago none the worse for wear. Mind you, I haven't had a chance to speak with her much…she has been spending her time in Snakes quarters.  
  
Of course, I'm not complaining. Flint has practically moved in with me in the meantime.  
  
Anyhow…I stopped so suddenly that Flint walked right into me and looked up to see what had caught my eye.  
  
"Mmmm…she's hot…" he murmured teasingly in my ear, and was rewarded with an elbow in the stomach. As he doubled over the new girl looked up to find out what all the fuss was about and I saw her eyes widened in shock.  
  
"Alison?"  
  
"Jinx…"  
  
Well…as surprised as I was to see her she was ten times more flabbergasted to find the great and snobby Lady Alison Hart Burnett standing in front of her in cammies and combat boots.  
  
The thing is this little ninja cum Intel agent went to Bryn Mawr. Not only that, but her best friend at school was MY 'little sister'. Well, not literally…the members of the graduating class are always assigned a first year, to show them the ropes so to speak. I got to know her quite well as a consequence.  
  
We embraced and began to chatter in French, oblivious to the stares of the soldiers surrounding us. Jinx is about as skilled at languages as I am…Japanese, English, Mandarin and French are all part of her repertoire.  
  
I remember her well. She was a lovely girl from a wealthy Japanese/American family who traveled from California to attend the prestigious all girl's college on a full scholarship. I also remember her being quite proficient at martial arts. That might be an understatement…the trophy case in her room was full to bursting.  
  
As for the nickname…well…she had it when she came to Mawr. She had been given it when she was younger. Apparently 'Jinx' was a bit of a bad luck charm…wherever she went things kind of happened.  
  
I was happy to see her…at least for the first ten minutes. Then, as we sat down with the others at the table, I realized the danger. If I knew her well…she knew me better…knew things I had never shared with the others…  
  
…and if I remember correctly…the little spitfire wasn't one to mince words.  
  
"So, Allie Cat…" she used my nickname as we settled down to our meal, "what the hell is the heiress to the Hart fortune doing in the military. I mean…this is hardly what your mother would call a proper pastime for a young lady. And anyways…last I heard you were in Ireland sleeping with one of your professors."  
  
Beside me, Flint spit up his diet coke while the others merely stared at me in amazement.  
  
Oh god oh god oh god…  
  
Scarlett grinned evilly and before I could stop her, commented that Jinx must know some amusing stories about my college days. If looks could kill she would have dropped like a stone under my glare.  
  
"Oh yeah…there was the time Sister Agnes found her dangling out a third floor window with her roommate Cathy holding on to the other end of a sheet as they tried to make their escape after lights out…there was the time she nearly blew up the chemistry lab…there was the incident with the Princeton men's Rugby team, weren't you stalking the captain? There was the time her father stormed into the residence and told her that 300 dollar Prada shoes did not constitute an emergency and please refrain from using the AMEX …Did you know we used to call her 'Imelda' Burnett on account of her shoe obsession? Oh and who can forget the time she and Melanie hacked into the school's computer and added…what was it? A $3 350 000 'Klingon Cloaking Device' to the school's year-end budget report…and then…"  
  
By the time she was finished…well…lets just say I had turned eight shades of red and even Snakes was trying desperately to stop himself from dropping on the floor laughing.  
  
Look…I never said I was perfect! I was pretty popular at University…and my friends and I had a knack for getting into trouble. No one complained…much…they were pretty minor and we were all 'A' students. But it was embarrassing being reminded of my youthful follies and having them shared with the large crowd that was steadily growing around our table.  
  
All my fellow Joes knew of me up until now was that I was a professional, straight laced if short tempered soldier…down to earth. Not the spoiled, rich troublemaker. The snobby 'nose in the air' Hart from the Vineyard.  
  
Now they were practically falling over themselves as Jinx related the tale of my historic performance of ABBA on the school lawn.  
  
That thumping sound was me banging my head against the table.  
  
"…it was Dancing Queen…or was it Mama Mia…whatever it was she, Mel and Cathy were hilarious. Wait a minute, I think I have that on video…"  
  
Low Light practically jumped out of his chair…"Ok…how much do you want for it."  
  
"COOPER!" I snapped and he sheepishly sat back down in his chair.  
  
"I don't remember where I put it…"  
  
"…Si vous savez ce qui est bon pour vous, ca vas rester perdu. Cinq mots – Schnapps au saveur de Peche…"  
  
Needless to say, that shut her up. I am not beyond blackmail you know…I should have used that ammo long before this got out of hand. As it was, Flint was grinning from ear to ear…and from the amused looks he kept passing me I knew I wasn't going to hear the end of this anytime soon.  
  
Sigh*  
  
I must have let out an audible sigh of relief cause she looked up confused.  
  
"You mean to tell me these guys don't know about your life before Joe?" I didn't need to answer as all the guys around me shook their head no. "Man, Allie…what are you ashamed of? Ok…so you were a bit off the wall, but you were also smart, rich AND one of the most talented actresses to come out of the school in years. Not only that, you had a voice like an angel. I half expected you to end up accepting an Oscar for best actress by now…or a Tony…"  
  
"You can sing?" Flint looked up, his eyebrows raised in surprise.  
  
"Sing?" Jinx cut me off, "Man…is that an understatement…"  
  
"Ok…enough about me…how about you? When did you join the military?"  
  
She really is a nice girl. I like her…I wanted to kill her at that point…but overall I was happy to have her on the team. And given her specialty, it is highly likely that we will be working together quite a bit. That is if Snakes doesn't drag her headlong into Ninja Force…  
  
When I got back to my room…I sighed and threw myself down onto the bed in utter humiliation. I didn't notice Flint had followed me in until he started humming the tune for Dancing Queen.  
  
GROAN.  
  
He is sitting up in bed next to me reading quietly as I write this. It's really late but neither of us is tired, which is surprising given the long day we both had.  
  
It's funny. I was half expecting to be teased to the point of having a complete nervous breakdown but instead Flint sat down and began to ask me questions about my past. My family, my school life, my childhood…it was the first time he had EVER shown an interest in my life outside of Joe and, truth be told, I suspected an ulterior motive.  
  
I guess it must have shown on my face because he smiled a boyish grin.  
  
"What? You think I would use it against you?"  
  
"YES!"  
  
His face turned serious, and a bit hurt.  
  
"Ah come on Allie. I just realized as I sat there listening to Jinx that I really don't know anything about your life before I met you. You never told me much…"  
  
"You never asked, bozo…"  
  
"Well…I'm asking now…"  
  
We sat staring at each other for a few moments in silence before I began. We talked for a while and I shared some things with him that I hadn't talked about or thought of in years, and he listened attentively.  
  
It was really, really nice.  
  
In fact…this whole week has been wonderful.  
  
It's been fun having him around so much, not having to run off to different sides of the world for weeks on end. I thought for sure we would be at each other's throats by this time…but instead we have settled nicely into seeing each other every day.  
  
Sharing a bed every night…  
  
Hold on…  
  
…  
  
Dash just turned to me and asked me point blank if I would ever sing for him. I smiled a wicked smile and said he would have to do something pretty amazing for that to happen.  
  
Jinx is right. I am good…I admit that with pride…although I rarely sing in public, especially since joining the army. I could do the 'Broadway' thing, but I prefer the theatre. Prefer William Shakespeare to Andrew Lloyd Weber…  
  
What did he just say?  
  
He's going to hold me to that? That I had better be prepared to pay up and soon?  
  
He is up to something I know it…but what?  
  
Oh….  
  
OH!  
  
Gotta go… 


	24. November 2nd

November 2nd  
  
Has everyone forgotten that I am Covert Ops?  
  
Does anyone know that the damn thing is my raison d'etre, my specialty, my greatest strength?  
  
Just when I thought I would never get another covert ops job ever again, I find myself in New York with Chuckles, Psych Out and Dial Tone on some crazy mission to bug the COBRA communications system.  
  
Ingenious…but still crazy.  
  
The long and the short of it is that Chuckles manipulated a yuppie terrorist group called the Menshevikistas, and somehow got them to unknowingly do our dirty work. The radicals were looking to oust COBRA from Sierra Gordo, and after breaking into the embassy and planting explosives on the major structural pillars in the basement, were threatening to bring down the building unless COBRA gave in to their demands.  
  
As the situation escalated and the building was evacuated, we went to work. Tunnel Rat cut off the power from sewer system below while Dial Tone, Chuckles and I snuck into the building from above using…get this…power hang- gliders.  
  
Needless to say…not thrilled about those things!  
  
My part in the mission?  
  
Impersonate the Baroness for about two minutes.  
  
Yup…that's right.  
  
That's it, that's all!  
  
Dial Tone patched into the their surveillance system and fed a shot of me dressed as the 'dominatrix' herself announcing to the revolutionaries that COBRA would never give into their demands…adding a couple of taunts and insults in for good measure.  
  
Well…it worked. The…what did I call them?.. ' Weak, pampered children of the effete middle–class' (god I'm good), set off the 'explosives' that were, of course, filled with riot gas. Chuckles had been the one who sold them the duds! In the ensuing confusion we were able to plant the bug and walk right out the front door completely unnoticed by the temporarily blinded enemy.  
  
I was impressed to say the least. This weird guy with his loud Hawaiian shirts certainly knew his stuff…AND he knew how to have a good time, dragging us all out onto the town in celebration of our successful mission.  
  
Unfortunately…I have a feeling I am going to be very VERY hung over tomorrow morning. My head is still buzzing from the major quantities of alcohol consumed after I found out that this big man from Arkansas was going to be leading all undercover and covert operations for the team.  
  
WHAT?  
  
Grrrrrr…That's my baby. Or at least it should be. What the hell is going on here? I am a covert ops specialist. Even though I find myself in combat missions more often than not, the whole reason I was selected for the team was because I was good at doing EXACTLY what 'Hawaii-Five-O' here is taking over.  
  
Ok…so he has more experience, has been in the business longer. I mean, he told me some of the stuff he has been involved in and it is really very remarkable. But still…isn't what he is about to take over the whole basis for my being on the team in the first place?  
  
If I'm not going to be practicing my specialty, if Hawk doesn't think enough of me to let me take over the operation then WHY am I here? To advise him? There are so many Intel specialists on this team I am hardly unique in that aspect.  
  
So…what does that make me?  
  
I'll tell you what it makes me! A glorified Greenshirt, that's what it makes me!  
  
Needless to say the evening ended on a sour note. I like Chuckles but I was just too riled up to even talk to him after I found out what was going down. I kept my cool, but he must have noticed that I went over to hang with Dial Tone for the remainder of the night. Phil is a nice guy despite his terrible taste in clothing, and he certainly couldn't have guessed that he would be ousting me out of my dream job when Hawk brought him on.  
  
Still…I was drunk and therefore more likely to shoot my mouth off…it was best to avoid any potential confrontation.  
  
Dial Tone did nothing to help the situation.  
  
Our communication guys are some of the biggest 'nerds' I have ever met. Not the type of people I would have been caught dead with in my oh-so-snobby high school and university days. They were the ones who used to hang out at the comic shops and the conventions, played Dungeons and Dragons on Friday nights and you just KNEW that somewhere on their person was a 'Federation' symbol.  
  
Admittedly, having gotten to know Jack at work, I kind of like the guy. He can certainly fight and pulls his weight on the missions I have been on with him. He is also completely awkward around woman, and has the strangest sense of humor…usually I can tolerate it pretty well…  
  
…Tonight, however, was not usual.  
  
It seems I interrupted a conversation he was having with someone at the bar about Star Trek (what else), when I sauntered by. I have seen the show a couple of times, and it's entertaining…but I certainly didn't know enough to wax poetic about the rank structure of the Klingon High Command.  
  
Anyhow…I tried to join in the conversation and offhandedly told Jack that I had actually kissed Patrick Stewart one summer in England. I was playing Catherine to his King Harry in a Stratford Festival production of Shakespeare's Henry V.  
  
Well…the look on his face when he heard that, it was like I had suddenly disappeared and in my place stood some scantily clad Vulcan.  
  
"You KISSED Captain Jean Luc Picard!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"  
  
"No, I kissed Patrick Stewart. It was a stage kiss…nothing more tha…"  
  
"Captain Picard kissed YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!"  
  
I didn't get a word in edgewise and for the rest of the evening the man kept watching me with a look of complete awe on his face. It was very uncomfortable…adding to an already tense evening.  
  
More alcohol was needed.  
  
So…now I am sitting in my hotel room alone, nursing a hot cup of coffee and tending to my misery. Chuckles and Dial-Tone are leaving for a mission in Germany tomorrow and have left me in NY to monitor the bug we had planted…what am I? A CADET??!!  
  
Harumph!!!!  
  
The only good thing to come out of all of this is that Jinx and Scarlett will be joining me tomorrow afternoon. The three of us alone on what amounts to a minor operation in the Big Apple…I see shopping in my near future!  
  
In the meantime…the buzz is starting to wear off and oh boy am I in for it tomorrow. You would think a Scot like myself could hold her alcohol…  
  
I never learn.  
  
Sigh*  
  
This whole day has suceeded in bringing all the insecurities about my abilities as a Joe to the forefront. Maybe my mother was right…I would never fit in here. I was not made for this type of work. I could play soldier all I wanted but in the end it was all an act. Just another role to play…  
  
That underneath the uniform I was still just a spoiled little rich girl looking to spite her mother.  
  
You would like that Mom, wouldn't you? To be proven right? For me to fail and come running home with my tail between my legs?  
  
NOT GOING TO HAPPEN! 


	25. November 8th

November 8th,  
  
I'm on a B1-B flying over the Atlantic on my way to Frankfurt. It seems our stellar new Covert Ops lead needs my help on a job.  
  
Well…'our' help anyways…as Jinx and Scarlett are with me on this one.  
  
Why am I not surprised? With that loud shirt and heavy Arkansas accent he is sure to stick out like a sore thumb. The Germans aren't very fond of American tourists, and even though he is there on US business, he is certainly going to categorized as such and given the good old Deutschland cold-shoulder.  
  
He doesn't even SPEAK German. What was Hawk thinking? I could have done this with my eyes shut. Granted, I am not quite sure yet WHAT 'this' is, but my god, I speak the language fluently and could pass for a upper class European without having to bat an eyelid.  
  
Grrrr…  
  
Ok…breath. You promised yourself you were going to act professional and non- chalant about this whole episode. This isn't corporate America…you have got to follow orders. If this is what Hawk wants than you cannot question it and you certainly can't go around kveching about your new boss…stuff like that is liable to get you Court Marshaled.  
  
Sigh*  
  
The past few days in New York were made infinitely more bearable by the mere presence of the two women I am now traveling with. Red, Jinx and I had a bloody blast…it was like a giant slumber party.  
  
It's nice to have Shana all to myself for a little while. This whole Snake Eyes/Ninja Force thing has really taken up a lot of her time. Mind you…I haven't been all that available myself. When Flint is around he usually commands a lot of my attention.  
  
Nevertheless, one should never leave your girlfriends hanging when you pursue a relationship…  
  
What did my Aunt Sarah always say? Lovers come and go but your friends stay with you forever.  
  
The three of us are so different yet so close. Jinx…the newest addition, has wormed her way back into my life with ease. Her confidence and fun- loving nature make her hard to resist despite the aggravating tendency to say exactly what is on her mind without applying any filters.  
  
Scarlett, on the other hand, is the serious one. Although she has a great sense of humor, she usually ends up being the 'adult' in most of our dealings…holding me back from doing or saying anything foolish. Sometimes I want to knock that sensible, 'holier than thou' side of her from here to China…but in truth if it wasn't for her advice and firm hand on my shoulder I would probably be in the brig by now.  
  
Where do I fit in? I am the stuck up, snobby, drama queen. Shana says I'm spoiled, which aggravates me to no end. I don't think she means spoiled in the sense of 'moneyed', she means spoiled by way of being an only child and never having to learn to share or compromise, and always having to be the center of attention.  
  
She has me there…I do like the spotlight…hence my attraction the stage.  
  
Having grown up with three brothers and a sister, Shana is as far from spoiled as you get. In fact, she had it pretty rough growing up. No mother…little money…and a sister who pretty much hated her guts. Yet she pulled herself through it and came out on top. You have to admire her…black belt at 15…superb soldier and intelligence operative, a great leader and with a man who loves her more than life.  
  
She does have her bad points, one of which is her temper. But hey…its not like I'm miss serene! I mean, my upbringing has taught me to 'control my baser nature', but sometimes I just have to let it out...  
  
And Jinx…boy…not someone you want to piss off.  
  
My quick temper and attitude has gotten me in more trouble than I care to admit…and certainly adds to the volatile nature of my relationship with Flint. If Red and my arguments are intense…Flint and mine are legendary.  
  
I guess some of Shana's sense is finally rubbing off, because I have yet to blow my top over the Chuckles thing. Or maybe I'm just growing out of it…does turning 30 do that to you? I will have to ask Red later…  
  
I have no idea where this irritability came from. My father was always a gentleman…loud and boisterous at times…but he never lost his temper with me. Ok…that's a big fat lie. I think I pushed him over the limit a couple of times in my teens but it was always over quickly.  
  
My mother was cool when she was angry. So was my Grandmother. I could have burnt the house down but they would NEVER have lost their stoic demeanor. But the look in their eyes…ooo…that was scarier than anything. The icy stare, the look of anger and disappointment, of quiet disapproval that left you quaking in your shoes wondering what your punishment would be when it finally came.  
  
Shudder! Man…that look would give Cobra Commander the willies!  
  
I can do the stare…ask Flint about the last time he commented on my cooking skills or lack thereof to the other Joes…the poor guy froze. He has faced an army of COBRA troops but was left a babbling mess over the patented 'Hart' glare.  
  
Some times, though…I just let loose. It must be from my father's side of the family. It's a Scottish thing for sure. It certainly is not the type of behavior my mother would expect from her little WASP socialite.  
  
And there's the clincher…it isn't what my mother would want so I do it. Am I so insecure in my own identity, am I so resentful of her that I would try this hard to be as unlike her as possible?  
  
That is a disturbing thought…and one I would rather not deal with at the moment.  
  
Anyhow…monitoring the COBRA communications system was boring to say the least. A lot of it was just recording activity and paying attention to any key words that flagged our system…  
  
Most of what we picked up was regular communications…nothing out of the ordinary. There was one conversation between the Baroness and Destro that got a bit out of hand, but that was hardly worth noting on our report…although it was amusing to listen to. Jinx was practically rolling on the floor laughing…  
  
It seems I'm not the only one in a rocky relationship.  
  
Which reminds me, Flint and I hardly parted on cordial terms last week.  
  
It seems that Hawk wants Flint and Duke to accompany him to the White House on November 11th for the Memorial Day gala. The mission? To schmooze with the politicians and pick up any and all information they can with regards to military funding in general and our team in particular.  
  
It really is quite the elegant affair…at 1000 dollars a ticket it would have to be. The President and First Lady will be making an appearance and most of the top brass will be there.  
  
Duke will fit in perfectly. The man knows how to work a crowd and can charm the pants of even the most stuck up Washington politician.  
  
Flint, on the other hand…well…he can be charming and he is certainly intelligent enough to travel in these crowds. In fact, he might be a bit too intelligent. Dash has no patience for stupidity and he certainly has no patience for two-faced politicians. His big mouth is liable to shut more doors than open them. What could Hawk be thinking?  
  
As it was, the General had a plan after all. After winning me over with the tickets and the invite, Flint immediately ruined the moment with an off hand remark about Hawk being right in figuring he wouldn't have to order me to go.  
  
Grrrrr….  
  
Here I am all excited about going on an actual DATE with him and he goes and tells me in his roundabout way not to get any ideas…that he was ordered to ask me. It is actually ME that Hawk wants at this thing.  
  
Double grrrr…  
  
We go out to dinner sometimes, hang out with the other Joes or alone…but we have never gone together to a non-Joe affair…and certainly never a black tie gala. God forbid we should…I might get the wrong idea…I might actual think he was serious about me!  
  
Of course, I lashed out at him…  
  
"You're just miffed because for all intents and purposes this is going to be MY gig and you are going to be relegated to eye-candy status"  
  
He grinned and puffed out his chest like a bloody peacock and answered that he could play that part with ease. Which reminded him, even though I will not be required to wear my dress uniform…the General wants me to mingle with the crowd as a civilian in order to better pick up any relevant information…I could not wear jeans and a tee shirt.  
  
ARGH! That exasperating, arrogant, son of a…  
  
So…he thinks I am too much of a soldier girl to do the 'Ball' thing, eh? Of course, I threw the tickets back in his face.  
  
The plane is circling, preparing to land. I had better get my gear together. Where did they put the equipment I sent for? Ah here it is. My sniper rifle, a couple of fake passports, some ammo…and…what the hell is this?  
  
Oh it's so cute.  
  
A little blue Octopus stuffy…and what's this tangled in its tentacles…  
  
A ticket to the gala…and a note…  
  
"On with the dance! Let joy be unconfined - D"  
  
A Byron-esque peace offering?  
  
Sigh*  
  
Hawk HAS ordered me to attend with him, warning me that if my personal relationship with Flint was going to get in the way of me doing my job he was going to have to rethink his position on our little liaisons. So I guess I have a date with Dashiell after all!  
  
Hopefully I will make it back on time…but if anyone thinks I am going to let him off that easily they have another thing coming.  
  
Its high time Flint met Lady Alison Hart-Burnett, don't you think?  
  
…revenge is going to be sweet! 


	26. November 11th

November 11th,  
  
Oh God I know I'm going to be late!  
  
I have to be at the White House at 7pm. It is now noon and I am still at the Salon in Boston getting my hair done. My flight is at 3pm. What was I thinking? I am never going to be able to pull this off!  
  
Serenity now! Serenity now!  
  
I got in from Germany very early this morning. The mission went ok despite a minor hiccup that left both myself, Scarlett and Jinx at the mercy of some very violent terrorists. The 'revolutionaries' (there are a lot of those around lately) were knocking over an American PX to finance their activities. Unfortunately, they were holding three hostages as shields so that no one was able to get a clear shot…not even Low Light.  
  
When we arrived in Frankfurt the situation had already been going on for over twelve hours with no contact from the hostage takers. We found out later that they had been waiting for an escape route…a hijacked plane out at Rhein-Main Flughafen.  
  
Oh…that tickles. Damn I really needed a pedicure, didn't I? Combat boots are not easy on your feet…  
  
Anyhow, I managed to get through the whole thing without one snarky comment to Chuckles. Ok…maybe one. When we first met up I kind of asked if the situation was too much for him and Dial Tone to handle by themselves. Scarlett frowned in disapproval but Chuckles merely grinned and said he thought he might need a feminine touch.  
  
I should have ended it then, but I continued in the same haughty 'Hart' tone when I asked him if he had a plan. This little conversation is going to get back to Hawk for certain. I was very close to crossing the line between wry humor and insubordination.  
  
Of course, he did have a plan. It was dangerous as all hell, but it was a plan. It involved the three of us going into the PX disguised as nurses and taking down the enemy in one quick blow.  
  
Ummm…red nail polish is too RED…I think I will go with the dark red/brown Chanel color there…Vamp. Yes…perfect.  
  
Needless to say, they ended up taking us down. We couldn't defend ourselves while the hostages were still in immediate danger, and as a result ended up being taken captive.  
  
We fought our way out in the end, but not without some bruises to show for it. Those guys had no idea what they had gotten into when they decided to piss off two ninjas and one temperamental ex-socialite with a mean right hook. I almost feel sorry for them.  
  
Almost…because of that pimply bitch 'Jane' I have a very big bruise forming on my side. Thank god it will covered by my dress. In the meantime, though…I am having trouble bending over without flinching in pain.  
  
I wish Paul would stop going on about my hair. I know it's a mess. He has been my stylist for years…I trust him implicitly. But he does tend to get very emotional about hair. He is just lucky its long enough to style.  
  
The highlights came out well. Daniel did an excellent job as usual.  
  
He thinks I am heading for a nervous breakdown. He doesn't know the half of it! In less than 48 hours I have crossed the Atlantic twice, had a gun put to my head, was handcuffed and blindfolded in the back of a truck AND had breakfast with my mother.  
  
I don't know which was the more stressful.  
  
Yes…I saw my mother. It was required if I was going to carry out 'Operation Cinderella' successfully. We hardly speak to each other, not since she cut me off from the finances. It would have happened whether or not she slashed my budget, I dread our conversations enough to avoid them like the plague. They usually involve her criticizing my career and trying to marry me off…  
  
This morning was no different. It began innocently enough as we skirted around our main conflict by engaging in small talk about the goings on among the Vineyard social set. I should have known it wouldn't last long.  
  
She was asking me about the affair tonight and politely enquired as to whom was escorting me. Of course, she doesn't know about Dashiell…I keep my private life private. I told her my date was one of my fellow soldiers and she got the 'oh goodness…so beneath you look' which I recognized from my days with Shawn. Actually, that was the 'he is an entire drinking-aged- person older than you are…oh the scandal' look…can't get the two confused.  
  
I must have been really tired, because before I knew it I let slip that Dashiell and I had been seeing each other for a few years. Silence settled over our little table in the café as my mother absorbed the words.  
  
"And you are not planning to marry…" I don't know if that was relief in her voice. It certainly sounded like relief.  
  
"We work together, it wouldn't be…"  
  
"So its not serious…"  
  
"It is…"  
  
"Are you trying to convince me or yourself?"  
  
"Mother…" I gave her my best warning tone.  
  
"Oh, Alison…really…you could do better. When are you going to stop playing these games and come home. You have done your 'tour', or whatever it is they call it…the army is no place for a 'Hart'."  
  
It went on from there. By the time I left her I needed three aspirin to stop my head from pounding. Not only did I end up having to defend my career choice, due to my own big mouth I had to defend poor Dash as well.  
  
Sigh*  
  
Despite our differences, I knew she would pull through with my request. I had said the three magic words after all:  
  
White House  
  
Gala  
  
Chanel Gown  
  
There was no way she was going to let a 'Hart' attend that affair without a quick trip to the safety deposit box. Diamonds are a girl's best friend after all…and I have to tell you it was well worth the side trip to Boston to pick them up.  
  
So that almost completes the checklist. Hair, nails, pedicure, jewelry…the dress and shoes were purchased in New York before I left for Frankfurt. Now all I need to do is my makeup…  
  
…and make the flight to DC!  
  
If I don't collapse from exhaustion in front of the President and First Lady it will be a miracle. 


	27. November 12th

November 12th,  
  
What a magical evening!  
  
I am sitting up in bed in my hotel room, waiting for Flint to get out of the shower. We have to meet Hawk and Duke for lunch in an hour to go over the information we managed to gather at the White House, but I can't seem to get myself out of bed. I am just drained. We managed to make it back to the hotel at 3AM, and Dash didn't let me get to sleep until 4! Combined with jet lag and the fact that I have hardly slept in three days, you can imagine the state I am in.  
  
…but it was SOOOOO worth it. Operation Cinderella was a resounding success!  
  
I managed to make my flight and check into the hotel with just enough time to spare to get changed and relax before having to meet the boys at the entrance to the White House.  
  
It's been a long time since I have had to dress up for a formal affair such as this. When I was still officially a 'Hart' it seemed like I was at a party every second weekend, but once I joined the Joes I had no time for fundraisers and soirees, and to tell you the truth, no real desire to go either. The people who usually attended were just so stuck up and fake, and I was sick to death of the little power games that took place between the 'established' families.  
  
My life has changed. Those affairs are a thing of the past. I am a different person now. So much so that when I looked in the mirror after I had finished getting ready, it was like a stranger was staring back at me.  
  
A beautiful stranger.  
  
I still can't believe the transformation. My hair was done up in an elegant twist and clip at the back of my head, the highlights having lightened it up just enough to give life to the color without overdoing it. My dress was a lovely black evening gown from Chanel that fell to my ankles. It clung to my body in all the right places, in fact the hard muscle and soft contours of my body were accentuated perfectly. Last time I wore a dress like this I was a skinny bony mess…like one of those waif super models…  
  
What a difference!  
  
My feet were in the most lovely, feminine evening sandals…the straps thin and elegant…the heel just high enough to add a touch of finesse. Around my neck was a gorgeous diamond necklace with matching bracelet and earrings.  
  
A little makeup and some of my favorite 'Yves St Laurent' perfume, and the picture was complete.  
  
As my mother always says…simple is elegant. Don't over do…let your natural beauty shine. For all her foibles, she knows what she is talking about.  
  
Wow! Eat your heart out, Cover Girl!  
  
If I was shocked and pleased by the change in my appearance, you can imagine the look of complete astonishment that greeted me as I gracefully made my way out of the car and up the red carpet with the all the poise and polish of an ex-debutant and actress.  
  
The vehicle in question was a shining black Rolls Royce Silver Spur custom limousine. Only 300 of this particular model were made, and the Harts owned two of them. The license plate in the front sported a silver Heraldic Stag 'rampant' on a solid black background, our family crest. The back plates said simply HART1. The interior was all clean tan leather and wood panel trim.  
  
As the full liveried chauffeur emerged and opened the door, I breathed a silent thank you to my grandmother for coming through. We might not see eye to eye on most issues, but when it came to making a grand impression…well, she and I are willing co-conspirators.  
  
Duke was the first to notice me, freezing in place and dropping his hat in the process. Hawk went to chide him for messing up his uniform when he realized what had caught his eye. I think that is the first time I ever saw the General gawk. His wife Susan whacked him on the back of the head to snap him out of it.  
  
Mind you…all of that was happening in the corner of my eye, at the edge of my consciousness…as my attention at that point was focused on the tall, dark haired man standing a little to the side. He was dressed impeccably, his dress uniform tailored beautifully to his body, his hat held under his arm. He looked so handsome… I had never seen him in his 'Dress Blues'…if I had I probably would have jumped him. As it was all the women were eyeing him intently.  
  
I felt a twinge of jealousy but I needn't have worried. From the minute he saw me his eyes never wavered. In fact, they were practically bulging out of his head. Seeing the look of complete surprise, longing, confusion, desire, incredulity, shock that came across his face was worth every minute of effort, every dollar spent, every second arguing with my mother.  
  
When I finally reached him our eyes locked and I saw his mouth move, but no sound was coming out.  
  
"Well, Lady Jaye…I think we have all just witnessed a historic event," Duke said as he came up behind me, "Dashiell Faireborn at a loss for words."  
  
I don't think Flint even heard him. He was still struggling to get the words out of his mouth.  
  
"Allie?" He squeaked…my name coming out soft and strangled…Oh yes…revenge is sweet.  
  
"Dashiell, sweetheart…" I said in my best Hart tone, "if you are going to be eye-candy tonight you had better stop opening and closing your mouth like a fish. It certainly detracts from an otherwise seamless package."  
  
I smiled at him calmly and turned to the others. Duke had yet another tall redhead with him, with a spark of wit in her green eyes. Thank God…this one has a brain it seems. That last girl was dumb as a post…gorgeous…but she would get lost in a closet. Where does he find these women?  
  
He has a thing for long red hair. You know, I bet you anything if Snakes wasn't around he would be after Shana for sure. I have seen the way he looks at her sometimes, it is certainly not the look of a commanding officer assessing one of his soldiers.  
  
Hmmmm….  
  
"Jaye…for Christ's sake…you look like…well….really…ummm…" Hawk ran his hand through his blond hair as he shook his head in wonder, "…hell, you could have taken a cab you know…"  
  
"A Hart never takes a cab, sir. You asked for a Hart this assignment, and you got one." I smiled as I moved towards him, whispering to the driver that I would call him on when I was ready to leave. He nodded his head in acknowledgement and with a quick m'Lady before turning back to the limo.  
  
Flint continued to stare at me in silence as we made our way into the foyer where cocktails were presently being served, his face unreadable. Other than croaking out my name he had yet to say two words, which was very unusual for him. Instead…he seemed a bit lost, stumbling along beside me…his eyes locked on me in a look of complete amazement…so much so that he nearly plowed into a pillar.  
  
I wanted to burst out laughing, but I had put on my 'socialite' mask and merely looked back at him and smiled pleasantly as if this was the most normal thing in the world for me.  
  
Which it had been…once upon a time.  
  
I grabbed a glass of Chablis from one of the waiters as Hawk went over rules for the night before we spilt up to begin our 'mission'. Tonight we were not Joes, we were here to enjoy the party. No code names, no reference to our top secret team…just mingle and have a good time.  
  
And my mind focused on just that as we passed through the security checkpoint and into the grand East Room.  
  
The large area is decorated in a late 18th-century classical style. An oak floor of Fontainebleau parquetry, the bronze electric-light standards, upholstered benches, and three Bohemian cut-glass chandeliers are all kept in impeccable condition. The walls themselves are paneled in wood with classical fluted pilasters and relief insets, all painted white, while delicate plaster decoration adorn the ceiling.  
  
In the center of the room a Steinway grand piano with gilt American eagle stands under a gorgeous full length portrait of George Washington, and around it are seated the musicians of the Washington Chamber Orchestra.  
  
Opulent hardly describes it.  
  
The room was decorated tastefully in patriotic colors. Here and there senators and generals, politicians and lobbyists moved around the room dressed to the nines, sipping on their drinks and conversing while being serenaded by the sounds of Vivaldi in the background.  
  
Flint was hanging back again, scanning the room quickly as if assessing how best to approach the enemy on a battlefield. I noted several undercover CIA agents positioned at strategic intervals around the room. With the President in attendance, one would expect nothing less…but that was not what was catching Flint's eye.  
  
I followed his gaze and honed in on several of the top brass milling about with their wives in tow. Then I knew why he was so quiet…  
  
Of course there were many high-ranking generals in attendance, but Dash was eyeing a few in particular…including General Malthus (who was out of prison, it seemed), General Crowther and General Hollingsworth…not the types you want to cross, not unless you feel like going head to head with the Jugglers.  
  
After that fiasco with the Cobra Civil War where most of us ended up getting arrested and poor Hawk was confined to a psychiatric ward, we had learned the extent of their control. Then there was Crowther's attempt at 'head games' with Snakes and Storm Shadow. The idea of coming under the eye of the top secret committee of generals that held the reigns of power in the Pentagon…and some say the oval office itself…was unappealing to say the least.  
  
In the words of William Proxmire, "Power exercised in secret, especially under the cloak of national security, is doubly dangerous."  
  
Which led me to wonder why Hawk wanted me here at all. As I mentioned before we were to gather as much information as we could without drawing too much attention to ourselves. It is fairly certain that the Jugglers were aware of my family connections. The Harts are about as powerful in the world of Wall Street as they were in the department of defense, and there was no way that my presence at this gala would go unnoticed.  
  
Economic power meant political clout on Capitol Hill as well.  
  
So if it was not my 'covert' information gathering and analysis skills that Hawk needed tonight, than there was only one other possible answer…  
  
"Intelligence is not all that important in the exercise of power, and is often, in point of fact, useless." Dashiell whispered the quote and hit the nail right on the head. It irked me that he clued in so quickly…it irked me more that he had yet to say anything about how I looked.  
  
"Kissinger…" I replied with ease, "and I know what I am doing."  
  
"This is a dangerous game Hawk is playing." His voice was low, anger vied with concern in his dark eyes, "He is using your family name to…"  
  
"…as any good general uses his soldiers in the field…" I returned easily, turning to him and meeting his eye. "…and I intend to give him what he needs. I have played this game since I was old enough to talk. As much as I am loath to admit it I am a Hart. I am in my element here. Make no mistake, tonight is going to require as much cunning and skill as any battle. If you are not up to it…"  
  
His eyes darkened at the implications of my words, but my eyes were locked with his and did not falter. Finally I saw his soften and he smiled.  
  
"It's easy to forget who you are…its too easy to loose sight of the woman behind the warrior." He whispered.  
  
I frowned in confusion when I felt his hand brush my cheek while his other took my hand.  
  
"The fairest hand I ever touch'd. O Beauty, 'til now I never knew thee."  
  
His voice, deep and sonorous, always stuck a chord within me. And of course, like an idiot…I melted…  
  
"Dash…"  
  
"Come, my Lady…" he offered me his arm, "…we have a job to do. And I for one plan on enjoying every minute of it…"  
  
I smiled back at him and took his arm. And as we descended the staircase into the room below, I felt Dash straighten in his usual display of masculine pride. But this time it was different. This time it he was showing off the lady on his arm.  
  
Me.  
  
The rest of the evening was a blur. We mingled and socialized with as many people as we could manage. I was at my best, my mother would have been impressed by the skill and confidence I showed as I worked the room, Dash tagging along behind. In fact, for the first time since I have known him, he was content to let me lead the show without so much as a peep of protest.  
  
Not that he was the eye-candy that I had labeled him a couple of days ago.  
  
Far from it.  
  
He had managed to reign in his 'Flint' arrogance, letting his quick wit and keen intelligence take hold. Hearing him speak was an experience, and it served to remind me once again why I had fallen in love with him.  
  
I also couldn't help but notice that he did not take his eyes off me for the whole evening, and I knew him well enough to tell from the look on his face that he was impressed if a little taken aback by the way I handled even the most powerful men on the hill.  
  
Despite his admiration, I could also sense the ever-present worry…not that he would ever admit to that type of emotion. Yet I had learned to read the signs. The change in posture, the slight narrowing of his eyes, the way he stood closer to me as if his mere presence would ward of the danger that these men presented. This was especially apparent when I got close to the Jugglers…  
  
Yet as my grandmother always told me, the game, once started, must be played out to the end. You cannot falter…you cannot show weakness. Remain calm, remain confident, give nothing away. Absorb everything and store it for use later. Even what seems to be the most trivial of tidbits might prove to be just what you need to turn the tide in your favor.  
  
I repeated this to Dash as he held me in his arms while we made our way back to the hotel in the Rolls.  
  
"Your grandmother sounds like she would make a great field commander…" he laughed softly as he kissed the top of my head.  
  
"More like a dictator…"  
  
Back to the party…where was I? Mingling, talking…DANCING. Oh how we danced. It was as if there was only the two of us and the music. After a lavish meal that would have put even Roadblock to shame, we were treated to some wonderful live music. It seems that the Presidential 'clout' extends itself into the entertainment industry, for the headliners included some big names.  
  
But I think the thing I will remember most about the evening…the one scene that will stay with me, burned into my mind in stunning detail, for the rest of my days…happened in the presidential Rose Garden. I think I will relate the whole incident here…I want to write this down word for word.  
  
I need to write this down.  
  
It all started when I met up with my very good friend Melanie. Mel and I grew up together in the Vineyard…best friends from birth and all. We pretty much did everything together…that is until I joined the army. I was not surprised in the least to see her in attendance, as she was presently working as the Press Secretary to the current President.  
  
In any case, we chatted and reminisced about old times, and when Dash came over to join us, she looked him up and down with her discerning eye, noting the uniform…and said the following.  
  
"Nice Allie…I see your taste is still impeccable." Dash winked at her in amusement, loving every minute of attention. As it was the next hour with Dash was damned near impossible…sigh.  
  
Anyhow, after a bit Melanie paused and sighed.  
  
"You are still in the military aren't you?" I nodded, "When I saw you tonight I thought for sure you had come back into the fold. It was just a dare, Al…we never thought you would take it so seriously."  
  
"I like what I am doing…"  
  
"I can see why." She smiled wickedly and indicated Dash, who was busy chatting up some leggy blond in the shortest dress I have ever seen.  
  
"Well…that's part of it…" I frowned as I noticed the bimbo sidling closer to him. Damn he is such a flirt. I turned back to my friend, "But I really do love it. I never thought I would…"  
  
She interrupted me. "I know Al. God knows you would never stay this long at something you hated. Remember the junior league?"  
  
"Oh god…" I made a face, remembering the childhood trauma of it all, "My mother despaired at me EVER making a 'debut' into 'society. And if I remember correctly, your mother blamed me for corrupting you."  
  
"She still does. Calls you 'that Hart girl'." She did a grand imitation of one of her mother's tirade and we giggled like schoolgirls. Flint looked over at us with an expression of bewilderment etched across his face. I don't think he has ever heard me giggle before.  
  
"You know, Allie-Cat. We could us someone like you here. You are wasted where you are now. I can make some phone calls…not that it would be needed once they read your resume and see your last name…and your mother would be so happy she would probably but you back on the family accounts."  
  
"Mel…" I sighed, warning her with a look that this wasn't something I wanted to talk about.  
  
"Just think about it…promise me you will think about it."  
  
I did think about it. I thought about it every minute after I left her and went back out into the crowds. In fact…my thoughts began to overwhelm me after a while. So much so that I needed to escape. To be alone.  
  
So I exited through the large French doors and out into the garden. It was a mild night given the time of year, but the area was still empty save the agents roaming the grounds.  
  
I am not quite sure what I felt as I stood outside in the rose garden. Anger at my family friends and family for dismissing all that I have accomplished in the military, remorse for keeping the 'dare thing' a secret from Dash, guilt for knowing that there was a time in my life when I would have considered a man like Dashiell, a soldier, beneath me…or fear…fear that despite the fun we were having tonight that my relationship with him was still in the inevitable downward spiral.  
  
Maybe Mel was right, maybe my mother was right…maybe it was time to grow up. It was time to take my place among the Harts. God knows I enjoyed playing the part tonight. I didn't realize how much I missed the thrill of the game despite my complete intolerance of the snobbery that went with it.  
  
…Didn't it all pale in comparison to what I am doing now? Fighting for my country? Fighting for a cause?  
  
But it is here…among these men and women…that the real game is played out. The Jugglers, the politicians, the Wall Street tycoons…they held the reigns. I was born to play this field. I was trained to dance with devil and come out on top…I could feel the alluring pull of 'power' that my mother's side of the family held so close.  
  
Who am I? I play so many parts…soldier, scholar, actress, socialite, Scot, American…so many roles. But which one is the real me. Have I become so accomplished an actress that I can't even tell where the performance stops and the real me begins.  
  
Maybe, for all my denials…I am more a Hart than anything.  
  
I honestly felt like crying, but I would never do so in public. Instead I just stood there alone and watched the night sky in a desperate attempt to regain my composure.  
  
Then IT happened.  
  
"There you are…I have been looking all over for you!" His growl startled me but I did not turn around.  
  
When I didn't respond he continued in a softer tone…his voice full of concern.  
  
"Hey…Allie…what's wrong? Did someone hurt you? If they did they are in for a…"  
  
I don't know what it was…his quiet tone, his genuine worry…or my utter exhaustion…but when I felt his hand rest on my shoulder I just let go. I told him everything.  
  
I told him about the dare…I told him how I came into the army, how useless I was in basic. How I just wanted to escape from my overbearing mother. I told him what my uncle had said, what Mel had offered. I spoke of the feelings that had come to a head tonight, how I sometimes I feel like I don't belong on the team. How sometimes I really missed my old life.  
  
As I spoke he listened quietly. Really listened. It was the first time in a long while that he had stopped talking long enough to truly hear what I had to say.  
  
"You know, I can count on one hand how many times you have opened up to me." He leaned against a pillar and watched me carefully.  
  
"I'm sorry…I didn't mean to burden you with my insecurities…It won't happen again" I snapped, angry at myself for letting go and ready to leave until I felt his hand on my shoulder.  
  
"No…I didn't mean it that way…god…why is it I can never get it right with you?" He shook his head in frustration. "I meant that I like it when you do. It makes me feel like I really mean something to you. That you trust me…"  
  
"Of course you mean something to me Dash…but you never seemed interested in my thoughts and feelings before."  
  
"Ah…well…can't argue with that. I am a bit self-centered at times…"  
  
"At times…" I teased.  
  
"Jaye…" he warned, but his smile softened the impact of the tone. "Dare or no, you should be proud of what you have accomplished. You made the GIJOE team…you are the best of the best. Don't let anyone tell you that it is meaningless. Don't ever think that don't belong. But tonight…" he paused…  
  
"Tonight?" I began, but he cut me off.  
  
"Tonight I saw the most beautiful woman I have ever met bring several of the most powerful men in the country to their knees with a glance and a well placed word." He lowered his voice and looked away "Your friend is right…you are right…you DO belong here, Alison."  
  
"Dashiell…" Did he just call me beautiful? I remember thinking to myself…'how much has he had to drink?'…but then I saw the look in his eyes. The barriers were gone. They were down but good this time.  
  
"I guess in the back of my mind I always knew you were out of my league." He laughed softly, sadly "That one day, when all of this is over…when the Joes disband…that you would go back to your old life."  
  
"Do you think so little of me, Dashiell. After all we have gone through…" I turned away, not wanting him to see the look of anguish that crossed my face.  
  
"No…Alison. I think the world of you." I felt his warm breath against my neck. "I think so little of myself."  
  
I turned around sharply and looked at him in surprise. He laughed.  
  
"Yeah…the secrets out eh? But then again…I think you more than anyone knew that all along. I am such a jerk sometimes, it's a wonder that you put up with me."  
  
I smiled in amusement.  
  
"I ask myself the same question…I never know from one minute to the next what's going to come out of that mouth of yours."  
  
"Never a dull moment. I guess you bring out the worst in me sometimes…and the best as well." He paused then, as if collecting his thoughts. "You always saw through me…even when I was acting like a fool. You stood by me despite the fact that I have done nothing to deserve it…"  
  
"….and I think 'I love you the more in that I believe you have liked me for my own sake and for nothing else'."  
  
At those last words, hearing the quote from Keats, I froze.  
  
"What did you just say?" I whispered.  
  
"You heard me…" he looked away, obviously uncomfortable. "Come on Jaye…its not like you didn't know…"  
  
"I didn't. Love has no place in the military…remember? Keep it light…remember?"  
  
"Well, I lied. Happy?" he growled. "It means nothing anyhow…this is where you belong."  
  
"Who are you to tell me where I belong?" I snarled, "All my life I have had people telling me what to do, how to think, where I should be…I will make my own choices thank you very much. And where I belong is with you, you stubborn fool." He swung around sharply at my words but I did not pause. There were things that needed to be said.  
  
It was time.  
  
"You are what I want. You are all I have ever wanted…the power, the money, the influence…I walked away from it years ago. I would be lying if I said I didn't miss it…that I sometimes wonder where my life would be now if I had just walked out of that coffee shop and told Jules to shove it. But the minute I do, I remember that had I not taken up his challenge...had I not accepted the dare…I would have missed out on some of the most fulfilling and wonderful experiences of my life….that I would never have met you. "  
  
I stopped then…realizing what I had just said. I looked up to see him with an amused grin on his face…he picked it up as well.  
  
Insecurities be damned. I knew where I belonged. I knew it all along…  
  
"Since when are you vying for Psych Out's job?" I asked, my eyes narrow.  
  
"Just call me Dashiell Freud."  
  
"Very funny…"  
  
We stood in silence for what seemed like an eternity, neither of us wanting to acknowledge the feelings that had been brought out into the open. Finally, I spoke. I had to know.  
  
"What you said before…" I said softly, nervously. There was fear in his eyes, but the barrier was still down.  
  
"I meant it. " He sighed, "You?"  
  
"Yes…"  
  
"You have to know it would never work."  
  
"How do you know that, Dashiell?" I asked calmly, "How can you say that knowing all we have been through? All the happiness and the hurt, all the ups and downs…through all the difficulty of maintaining a relationship in the military…on the JOE TEAM…we have stuck by each other. Do those five years mean nothing?"  
  
"They mean everything. More than you could possibly imagine…" he made a cutting motion with his hand and continued, "but I know what happens next…"  
  
"I am not Karen." His eyes flashed then… anger at hearing her name, remembering her. Remembering Sierra Gordo. "I'm sorry…"  
  
"No…don't apologize." He whispered, "You are right…you are not. I never compared you with her. There would have been no contest. I loved her, yes…but with you…its different. Its more…" he paused and then continued, "I feel more than I ever felt when I was with her and it terrifies me."  
  
"Me too."  
  
He looked up at me and our eyes locked. Slowly he brought his hand up to my cheek and I nestled myself against his palm…  
  
"This isn't going to be easy…"  
  
"When has our relationship ever been that? Three has always been a crowd."  
  
"Three?" he cocked his eyebrow, his face betraying a bit of fear as to who else held my heart.  
  
"You, me…and your ego."  
  
He laughed, his eyes bright.  
  
"God…Allie…I love you."  
  
"I love you too."  
  
We kissed passionately under the stars, oblivious to the people around us…forgetting where we were and why we were here. We were in love. That was all that mattered.  
  
When we finally broke off, Flint looked at me and smiled.  
  
"You think Hawk would mind if we left early?"  
  
"Mmmmm…I think he would understand."  
  
"So," I began lightly as we walked towards my driver arm in arm, "does this mean I get to drive the 'stang."  
  
He tensed, but out of the corner of my eye I saw his sparkle in amusement.  
  
"Don't push it."  
  
So there you have it. HE LOVES ME. HE LOVES ME. HE LOVES ME.  
  
Did I mention he loves me?  
  
I am so happy I could just explode. I know this isn't going to be easy. We aren't out of the woods yet, but this is one major step forward. For both of us…  
  
Meanwhile…I had better start getting ready for lunch. Hawk will be pissed if we are late. I managed to pick up quite a bit last night, but none of it is good. He is not going to like what I have to say.  
  
Funding cuts are on the horizon and it looks like the Juggler's are going to try and nail us to the wall again.  
  
No…Hawk is not going to like this at all.  
  
…  
  
HE LOVES ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 


	28. November 16th

November 16th,  
  
I am woman; hear me...well...ummm...hear me mew.  
  
Sigh*  
  
You know, as big a mouth as I have...as forceful and opinionated as I can be, there are times when I am as meek as a kitten.   
  
If Gloria Steinhem were dead, she'd be rolling in her grave.  
  
Take today for instance.   
  
As I mentioned earlier, a certain fashion challenged ex-CID agent who shall remain nameless was edging his way on to my turf. Needless to say, I consider the last two missions I was on an affront to my abilities and accomplishments on this team. To add insult to injury, I was speaking with Mainframe about setting up a new fake identity in the government computer system when he mentioned off hand that Chuckles had gone undercover in Scotland as a games keeper for Destro a couple of months back.  
  
"What?!" I exclaimed, not quite certain I had heard him correctly. As far as I knew, the man had just joined Joe recently  
  
"Yeah...those Brits don't make it easy to hack into their system. Getting you a US identity is far, far easier..." He continued to type away at the keyboard, completely oblivious to my change of mood, "How do you like the name Anita Dupont? Or maybe something a bit more exotic...oooo...Pussy Galo..."  
  
"He went undercover in SCOTLAND!!!!!!!!!!!!"   
  
Christ, I couldn't believe it. That was my territory. I could blend in so well in the highlands that my own uncle wouldn't recognize me!  
  
"Yes...Scotland. Jeez, Jaye...don't you listen?" He squinted at the screen "Here is one, but she's blond. Unless you want to dye your hair; I am sure Flint would love it."  
  
"I thought he joined the team last month?" I said...deadly quiet. I was beyond angry now...I was livid!  
  
"Ummm...nope. I met him a while back when he came in to get the papers he needed." He looked up from his work and regarded me oddly, "Where have you been? I thought you knew...being our Covert Ops gal and all."  
  
"I thought so too." With that I stormed out of the room and headed straight for Hawk's office.  
  
I guess I should be thankful I ran into Snakes in the hallway or I would probably be facing a court martial right now. He saw the look on my face and immediately pulled me aside, practically dragging me to the dojo for a workout.  
  
"If you are patient in one moment of anger, you will escape a hundred days of sorrow." He signed calmly as he blocked my path.  
  
"Oh, don't you pull that Tao crap with me, Snakes!" I growled feigning left and right in an attempt to get past, "I am in NO mood for it! Now let me go, I have something that needs doing."  
  
"Oh no you don't!" he signed as he moved easily with me. I swear he was grinning under that mask. "You are coming with ME, young lady."  
  
"Bloody hell I am. Hey! Let go of me Ninja-Boy. Let g...OW..." Have you ever tried to avoid a Ninja hell bent on stopping you in your tracks?  
  
No?   
  
Well...I don't recommend it.  
  
In any case, as well meaning as my silent friend was, all our little training session accomplished was delay the inevitable. In fact, I think it probably made the situation worse for by the time the afternoon rolled around I was about ready to blow a gasket.  
  
I was in a meeting with Hawk, Duke and the others when it happened. Something had come up in England...a young Prince needed to be escorted from Oxford back to his homeland in Equatorial Kalingaland in order to claim the throne.  
  
I have to admit, I usually despise 'babysitting'...the term usually used to describe these operations...but I was so worked up over the whole 'Chuckles' thing that the thought never entered my mind. My anger and, dare I say it, my jealousy rose to astronomical heights when he and Roadblock were given the detail.  
  
"mac an donais!...ùmaidh" I harrumphed under my breath. Unfortunately, I did it just loud enough for Hawk to hear.  
  
"Do you have something to add, Lady Jaye?" He turned to me, his face calm but his eyes betraying annoyance at the interruption. Flint looked up from his papers and Duke smirked in anticipation, fully expecting one of my famous Gaelic tirades.  
  
"Well?" the General asked, his fingers taping against the podium, "We're waiting, Corporal."  
  
I felt like a kid getting hell from her teacher for passing a note in class. I was angry, yes...but uncomfortable as well. Then again...when did that ever stop me? I opened my mouth to reply, but at that very moment I caught Flint's eye and saw him slowly shake his head. It was so subtle that I nearly didn't catch it...but the message it conveyed was clear as day...  
  
"Not now..."  
  
Of course, that just served to make me even more irritated. I narrowed my eyes and glanced around the room. All around me, the guys had turned to watch my reaction...every one of them sporting a small grin.  
  
I paused and took a deep breath before replying.  
  
"Its nothing, sir."  
  
From the look on Hawk's face I knew he didn't believe me, but other business was waiting and he didn't have time to linger on my aborted attempt at insubordination.   
  
Thank goodness for small favors...  
  
You would think I would be used to operating in a man's world by now. You would think I would get used to being one of the few women in the army and one of even fewer on the Joe team. Most days, I love it...being 'one of the guys', getting the extra attention. Damn, I even enjoy the mild flirtation that goes on.  
  
That said, there are times when I feel...how do I put this...not discriminated against. Not intentionally, of course. Most of the guys are really great...but no matter their intentions, somehow I am treated a little differently simply because I am female.   
  
It seems that for every job, every obstacle course, every mission, and every task however menial...the four of us have to perform that much better than a man in order to have our effort recognized. I have never been a proponent of 'male' and 'female' PT. I am with Beachhead on this point...if you want to follow him into battle; you had better be able to pull your weight as well as any man. Its not a matter of gender...you are a soldier...end of story.  
  
That said, it really irks me that for the 100% that the men have to pull...we have to give 110% to get the same consideration. I might not be as strong as Roadblock or Gung Ho, but I am certainly a good deal more agile and I am one of the best shots on the team. Moreover, Scarlett or Jinx give pretty much every Joe on this team a run for their money...and NOBODY knows their way around a tank like Cover Girl.  
  
There are also times, like in that meeting, when I am acutely aware that I am the only woman in a meeting room. That if I speak up in anger or try to argue a point the guys will all think I am being 'bitchy' or that it's 'hormonal'. I know they don't mean to do it. Sure there are one or two on this team who would like to see Cover Girl, Jinx, Scarlett and I back in the kitchen 'where we belong', but the majority of them accept us. Nevertheless gender issues still color many of their reactions.  
  
'BROTHERHOOD of the Sword' indeed. Grrrrr....  
  
I have proven myself capable again and again, and STILL our erstwhile leader decided to bring in someone from the outside to run the show. Confidence issues aside, I KNOW I can do the job. I know I could run Covert Ops blindfolded! Chuckles might be good, but damn it...I'm better!  
  
In any case, when Flint and I sat down for a late dinner in the mess after the meeting, I was about ready to rip his head off. Not that he had done anything wrong, but unfortunately he happened to be the first person I saw after leaving the auditorium and as a result became the proverbial lightening rod for my anger.  
  
Flint knows what is going on between Chuckles and myself. I explained it to him in great detail on the plane back from DC. He listened attentively, offering comments here and there, and told me he would look into it. Of course, I immediately refused his offer. Hell, if there is one thing I didn't need was for my lover and CO to go to bat for me. It just doesn't look good and regardless, I like to fight my own battles.  
  
And speaking of battles, I was ready for one in the mess I tell you. I let loose but good. Surprisingly, Flint didn't take the bait...merely sat quietly, watching me pace the empty room, chewing thoughtfully on his food.  
  
"Are you finished?" He asked calmly as I paused for a breath, indicating that I should sit down and finish my meal before it got cold.  
  
"...and there you go again, telling me what to do! Why the hell did you stop me in there? I had every right to voice my opinion."  
  
"Yes, you do...but that wasn't the time or place. Especially not when you are riled up enough to call Chuckles a bastard in front of a five star."  
  
I stopped and stared at him in amazement.  
  
"When did you learn Gaelic?"  
  
He chuckled.  
  
"When I realized I needed to know what you were calling me when you're in one of your 'states'. Now could you please sit down, you're making me dizzy."  
  
"You are one to talk. You certainly not one to rein in your temper when you feel slighted. I have heard worse from your mouth." I growled as I crashed down onto the chair. "But of course, you're a GUY."  
  
"That has nothing to do with it Allie...and you know it." He leaned back and watched me, his eyes serious, "Did you ever think the Hawk has other plans for you..."  
  
"Yeah...Lady Jaye...Greenshirt extraordinaire!"  
  
"Stop that, Alison...you're not thinking...you're reacting. THAT is why I stopped you in there." He put his hand over mine and continued, "Look, I know I do it too...but that doesn't make it right. Calm down, sleep on it...and then set up an appointment with Hawk when you have your head on straight."  
  
"Who are you and what have you done to Flint."   
  
"Very funny. Look...I'm never said I was perfect...stop laughing...but the last thing I need is for you to get your ass kicked from here to Tibet by the Tomahawk. He might like you, Jaye...but he is STILL a General. You have to treat him with respect." He paused and flashed me a lopsided grin, "...And besides, if you go postal on him you know who will get the blame for 'corrupting' you with the Faireborn temper."  
  
"Well...you are right on that point. I always said you were a bad influence..."  
  
"Honey..." her growled playfully as he leaned over and pulled me in for a kiss, "...you have no idea how 'bad' I can be..."  
  
I think I could get used to this 'sensible' side of him. Even after all this time together, he still manages to surprise me.  
  
Take this morning, for instance.   
  
I was fast asleep beside him, both of us exhausted from a late night exercise...so much so that we didn't make it back to my room but instead crashed out at his place...when I was awoken by a woman's voice seemingly coming from midair.   
  
Although we are all housed in a top-secret compound, it doesn't mean we don't get phone calls. Dialtone has set up an ingenious system of routers and fake numbers that make tracking any call, either incoming or outgoing, virtually impossible. For all the Joe friends and family know, they are calling us at locations scattered across the country...each of us posted at a different base. My area code is from somewhere in the Texas, while as far as Flint's callers are concerned they are dialing him in North Carolina.  
  
Of course, despite the intricacies and stability of the system, it has one fatal flaw...  
  
Automatic speakerphone.  
  
I was half asleep, so I couldn't quite make it out what the disembodied voice was saying. I poked Flint a couple of times to wake him but he merely mumbled something into his pillow and went back to sleep.  
  
At least I thought he did.  
  
"I know you're there Dashiell...I can hear you breathing," said the voice.   
  
"...72 hours of labor and this is what you get..."  
  
"Quiet Betty, I can handle this...DASHIELL ROBERT FAIREBORN YOU PICK UP THE PHONE THIS INSTANT!"  
  
In a split second the man beside me was up and running, nearly knocking me off the bed in his rush to get to the phone. He tripped over his boots, swore as he tried to regain his balance and threw himself at the phone in a move worthy of the great football players.  
  
"Hi mom...yes, I know...what did you hear?...No mom, I didn't mean to...I never said that...if you would just...wait...if you would just let me...but that's not how it happened...I just...actually its 4...."  
  
I leaned forward on the bed to listen and Dash was trying to push me away. Unsuccessfully I might add.  
  
"I NEVER SAID...but mom...if you would just listen to...I didn't say...but....I...no I am not ashamed of...quiet Aunty Betty...sorry mom...no I am not going to...but...you don't...I didn't...No...NO!...Mom, you can't...she isn't...but I ....ok, ok...I'll do it. I said I'll do...love you too...bye."  
  
He hung up the phone, sighed and regarded me sheepishly before whispering in a cowed and shy voice that so totally contrasted with the arrogant soldier I knew and loved that I couldn't help but smile.  
  
"I was wondering if you might be interested in joining my family for Thanksgiving..."  
  
"Soooo...that cat's out of the bag, eh?" I reached over to tickle him as he tried to shoo me away.  
  
"Allie...come on...this is serious. Do you want to come or not?"  
  
"Are you asking me...or is your mom asking me?"  
  
"...Ummmm...is there any way I can answer that question honestly without you refusing?"  
  
"Probably not..."  
  
"Is there any way I can convince you otherwise?" His eyes flashed wickedly as he reached for me.  
  
"...maybe..." I whispered.  
  
So...needless to say I am now going to Dash's place for Thanksgiving. I am finally going to meet his family. Should be interesting.... if the conversation and subsequent reaction I was just witness to is any indication, it should be quite the theatre!  
  
Kansas...here I come. 


	29. November 24th

November 24th,  
  
Oh god...I am so full. Tomorrow is going to be an elastic waistband day, I can tell you right now. No, forget clothes...Dash will have to roll me to the car in wrapped in the bed linens like some giant potato knish. I don't think I have ever eaten so much in my life! It was like living in Weight Watcher's hell...the food just kept coming and coming!  
  
Who ever thought I'd be missing Beachhead's early morning PT sessions? I am going to need a whole month of them to work off the damage I did to my body today. I can still hear my arteries screaming in protest as I chugged back another of Aunt Betty's cabbage rolls.  
  
"Eat, eat!! You're too skinny. Put some meat on those bones...a man likes a little something soft he can grab on to you know..."  
  
"Don't start, Aunty Bett..." Dash growled as he attempted one again to get his youngest nephew to eat. So far, most of it had ended up on his shirt.  
  
"Ach...Dash...don't be such a nebekh." She turned back to me and winked, "And you are going to need a little padding once the babies start com..."  
  
"AUNTY BETTY!" Dash's eyes went wide and his face grew red for the umpteenth time that day. He quickly turned to the foot of the table "MA!!!!"  
  
"What!? What did I say?!" she said incredulously, waving her hands in the air for good measure.  
  
"Betts, stop teasing my son...Allie, have another slice of turkey...Dash would you please stop playing with your food. I didn't raise you in a barn!"  
  
His sister in law Carole leaned over from her place beside me and whispered in my ear.   
  
"See, what did I tell you? He has always been the easiest to tease." I smiled in amusement and nodded as Aunt Betty patted my shoulder "Stick with us kid, you'll learn something."  
  
So ended my first day at the Faireborn household during Thanksgiving...a place that can only describe as 'landscape in chaos'. Kids of all ages running wild across the front lawn in front of the big red brick farmhouse, dogs of all sizes and colors following after them, what looked like the entire population of the small Scottish town near my uncle's gathered on the front porch, eating and chatting.  
  
"I thought you said it was only going to be family, Dashiel."   
  
"This IS my family..."  
  
"ALL of them?" I whispered, but he was already dragging me out of the truck...a Ford Explorer we had rented at the airport. I looked up just in time to witness the stampede of children and dogs rushing towards us full tilt, followed by a bevy of smiling adults.  
  
"Uncle Dash! It's Uncle Dash!!!!!!"  
  
"Dash, look at you...finally decided to grace the family with your presence?"  
  
"What did you bring us, Uncle Dashy!?"  
  
"Please...don't call me that, sweetheart..."  
  
"Well, if it isn't everyone's favorite enlisted man...hey little brother...remember, I outrank you."  
  
"Get down, Murray...down...down...I said DOWN!"  
  
"Where's your car? The little red convertible?"  
  
"You never call...you never write..."  
  
"Sit Murray, sit...Christ, Joannie...your dog is nuts..."  
  
"What? Now he's my dog?!"  
  
"Oooo...is that a gray hair? Hey Dash...I hope you can keep up with us when we hit the field for a little football..."  
  
"Look at you, so handsome...isn't my nephew handsome. What? What? I can't pinch your cheeks anymore?"  
  
"Well, well, well...what have we here? Is this the secret girlfriend from DC?" Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to me, staring in silence as I stood rigid under their scrutiny.  
  
So overwhelmed was I that I nearly bolted...literally grabbed the keys out of Dash's hands and made a break for the border. ME! Socialite extraordinaire...seasoned soldier...can you believe it?  
  
"Guys...this is Alison..."  
  
"Alison!!!" They all exclaimed in unison, and suddenly I found myself surrounded by a sea of greeters, a mass of Faireborns drawing me towards the house like leaf in a stream.   
  
I managed to look back once to see Dashiel standing by the truck with two of his brothers, watching the action with a huge grin on his face. He winked and me and shrugged before turning to unpack the car.  
  
I wanted to kill him.   
  
The awkwardness passed quickly however, and soon I was sitting with the 'women folk', being made to feel right at home...part of the family.   
  
And what a huge family it is!  
  
Uncles, cousins, second cousins, nieces, nephews, aunts, grandparents, brothers...  
  
My god...his brothers! You had to see it! Tall, dark and handsome peas in a pod...with attitudes to match.   
  
"Incredible, isn't it?" Joannie, Mickey's wife came up behind me after I was introduced to all of them at once...a pack of lopsided grins.  
  
"They are ALL like that?" It was a statement more than a question. Carole laughed.  
  
"Arrogant, pig headed, egomaniacs? Oh yeah...I thought John was the worst...flyboy you know...but Dash takes the cake."  
  
"Oh wonderful..." I rolled my eyes, "But I guess I already suspected..."  
  
"Yeah...he's a handful...you seem to have him under control..." Lynne smiled and leaned back in the deck chair, "...but you still have much to learn, grasshopper..."  
  
I hit it off really well with his sister-in-laws...all three of them, although John's wife Carole and I get along best. We stuck together like glue the entire day as she dragged me to meet the various members of the Faireborn zoo. Dash was too overwhelmed by the kids to be much help...chasing, wrestling, playing...the little ones just flocked to him.   
  
Favorite uncle indeed!  
  
Mind you, he was by my side when I was finally introduced to his parents. I don't think I have ever seen him so nervous. This is a man who has faced down a HISS tank without even flinching!  
  
"I feel as though I should apologize for my son. We would have had you over sooner had we known..." Rose Faireborn narrowed her eyes at Dashiel, who looked down at his feet as he shuffled them against the kitchen floor.  
  
Dash's mother is a tiny woman...very petite, especially when seen standing anywhere near her 6 foot tall sons. In her early seventies, she is much older than I expected, but then again she certainly doesn't show it. Other than gray hair and some wrinkles, the woman is a bloody spitfire...the obvious ringleader in this veritable family circus.  
  
"...but you're here now, and I hope you make yourself right at home. When we heard that little Dashiel (little?) here was seeing someone again, we were all very anxious to meet the woman who managed to knock some sense into him. Don't be surprised if you are the center of attention today."  
  
"A soldier, eh?" His father, who had been silently considering me this whole time, spoke up. I nodded.  
  
"Yes...I'm a corporal in the Army."  
  
Colonel Joe Fairborn is an imposing man. You don't have to stare too closely to see where his sons get their looks. They are veritable cookie cutter versions of their dad. Gray haired and in his late seventies, if he is any indication Flint is going to age very well. Although not as hard-bodied as he probably was when he was younger, he still cuts a nice figure.  
  
"That's an interesting accent you've got there, Corporal...Where are you from?"  
  
"BOSTON..." Dashiel blurted out before I could answer. I swung around and flashed him an annoyed look while his parents stood looking at us questioningly.  
  
"Boston..." he repeated, quietly this time, "Allie is from Boston..."  
  
His father looked at his son oddly before turning to me again.  
  
"Boston..."  
  
"Actually, the accent is Scottish...my father was born there and most of my family are still living in the highlands..."  
  
"Ah..." He paused for a moment, "...and you two serve together?"  
  
"Yes..."   
  
"What's your specialty?"  
  
"Covert Ops..."   
  
"Military family?" Dash tensed behind me but before he could cut in again, I answered the question myself.  
  
"No..."  
  
He turned to his son.  
  
"You know, I have been out of the service for a long time, but I think...and correct me if I am wrong...that the rules against fraternization are still alive and well. Oh wait...I forgot...you haven't taken your commission yet."  
  
"Dad..." Dash growled behind me, I put my hand on his arm and turned to his father, my irritation hidden behind a polite smile.  
  
"No...not an officer...but quite the gentleman."  
  
He paused for a moment, considering me carefully, but before he could open his mouth to reply Dash's mom cut in and took my arm.  
  
"Alison, dear...you must feel a little lost and overwhelmed right now. Let me introduce you around." She pulled me out into the yard.  
  
"Don't mind my husband," she whispered in my ear as we made our way down to the yard, "He is a man of few words and that quick Fairborn temper. He likes you and is too stubborn to admit it to his youngest...typical." She frowned and shook her head before continuing.   
  
"Ah well...sometimes its best to get out of the way when the testosterone starts flying...although I am sure you know all about that, having been with Dashiel for...how long?"  
  
"Four years. Give or take a few months..."  
  
She smiled and gave my arm a squeeze..."Four years...I think that is a new record for my son. You must be very special to him..."  
  
"I hope so." I laughed, a bit uncomfortable with this very personal line of questioning. I had just met this woman, what was I supposed to say? 'Yes...he is my best friend and I am madly in love with him, but to tell you the truth he just told me how he feels a couple of weeks ago and I am still getting used to the whole thing.'  
  
"I know so...Oy, what's my mother doing!? She shouldn't be running around like that! Fool woman is going to break a hip...Ma...MA!" In a flash she was off, leaving me on the lawn with John and Mickey, who announced in amusement that I looked like I needed a drink.   
  
"Oh yeah...something with kick, please..."  
  
"Ah yes...the miracle of alcohol..." Mickey smiled as he handed me a beer and put his arm around my shoulder, 'The only way to survive these Thanksgiving reunions.'  
  
'Don't you have anything stronger?'  
  
John laughed.  
  
'We thought we'd save the good stuff for later...you are going to need it when you meet Aunt Betty!'  
  
Despite the almost overwhelming number of relatives that were thrown at me during the course of the day, I seem to have handled everything pretty well without having to drink myself into a stupor. As I said once before, the rigorous social training my mother put me through does have its advantages.   
  
I quite liked everyone too, even Aunt Betty despite our rough introduction, although Dash looked like he need a shot of bourbon when the dust settled. EVERY family has an Aunt Betty...except maybe mine. The Hart's are way to prim and proper to even condone that type of behavior, which is probably why I was completely unprepared for the onslaught.  
  
She came up to Dash after we left his maternal grandmother, who had finally been persuaded to take a seat and rest instead of chasing her great grandchildren around the yard.   
  
"What a mensh...always my favorite grandson." the old woman squeezed her Grandson's hand affectionately as she turned to look at me, "I knew he would find someone...I told everyone that the other shikseh wasn't for him...but did they listen to an old woman? No. But I knew you would come..."  
  
"You knew?" I regarded her questioningly.   
  
"Of course...Dos hartz hot mir gezogt."  
  
"In English Grammy..." Dash murmured, but I merely smiled.  
  
"Her heart told her..."   
  
She looked up at me, her eyes alight..."You understand?"  
  
"A bit...it is very similar to German..."  
  
"I knew you were a good girl...a good girl for my grandson..."  
  
As we left Dash put his arm around my shoulder and kissed me on the head.  
  
"You just made her day, you know..."  
  
"I try..." I smiled and started to lean into him when he froze.  
  
"Oh Christ...incoming..."  
  
"What?" I asked, tensed and expecting a COBRA Viper to burst out of the bushes at any moment. But what approached was no enemy soldier...but another tiny woman, a little rounder than his mother...who was determinately making her way towards us through the crowd.  
  
"So...my nephew has finally decided that we are worthy of an introduction!"  
  
"Don't start Aunt Betts...I'm not in the mood for...OW" She whacked him on the side of the head in a move so fast I hardly saw it coming.   
  
"Don't start!? Don't START!" she turned to me, "You see how he talks to his family. No respect. Imagine having to find out he was seeing a girl through the grapevine. The embarrassment it brought on his mother...you should be ashamed, Dashiel..."  
  
"Don't you think you are exaggerating a bit...OW...stop that!"  
  
"Exaggerating! Ach...you have no idea how worried we all were about you. You aren't getting any younger, nephew mine...and after that whole fiasco with 'she who shall not be named' we were beginning to wonder if you would ever settle down again..."  
  
"...I hardly think..."  
  
"...you should have listened to me then, you know. That woman was nothing but trouble from the start..." she turned back to me and continued in the same breath "...now let me take a look at you...very pretty, and a soldier as well I hear..."  
  
"Yes ma'am..."   
  
"Ma'am, what ma'am...do I look like a general to you? Call me Betty..." She smiled as she looked me up and down, "...smart too, I hear. I wouldn't expect anything less with our resident scholar here...hmmm...you're too skinny, but we can work on that. Good hips for childbearing..."  
  
"BETTY!!!!" Dash exclaimed as he turned beet red. I wasn't much better! I think I stood there with my mouth hanging open, stunned and not quite sure of what to say. Mind you, as I was about to learn, one doesn't really need to say anything to Betty...she can carry on a conversation all by herself.  
  
"...of course, when you have children your figure ends up going south you know. Look at me, four children has left me looking like Mrs. Potato Head. I used to be quite the looker, you know. Ask my Frank, we used to go to all the dances and he got so jealous when the boys flocked to me...although I don't suppose I ever wore a Chanel gown and dined at the White House. What did you say your family name was?"  
  
"She didn't..." Flint grumbled beside me and tried to pull me away, but Betty wasn't listening and was soon off and running again.  
  
"Family is so very important, don't you think? Which is why we were all so hurt that Dash decided not to tell us he has been seeing you...and for years no less. Not even a word. Although apparently his brothers knew something was up, but do they share with their poor mother? No. Which reminds me, I need to have a word with them as well. Rosie is too soft on you boys...too soft."  
  
She took a deep breath and smiled up at us.  
  
"So...when's the wedding?"  
  
I think poor Dash stopped breathing for a minute. I managed to extricate myself from that situation quickly and politely enough. Which reminds me, I need to thank Carole again for the rescue. We had to leave Dash behind, though...as Carole said, when it comes to Betty it's every man for himself!  
  
In any case, I think my favorite part of the day came long after dinner. The stars were out, most of the kids were off to bed, the extended family had left, and Dash, myself, his brothers and their wives were all sitting on the front porch sipping on coffee, laughing at the days events and chatting quietly amongst ourselves.   
  
He and I were cuddled together on an oversized Adirondack deck chair, a fleece blanket pulled up over us, his hand entwined with mine. Shep, his father's old border collie lay at our feet and every so often Flint would reach down and scratch his head, a contented smile on his face.   
  
He really is a different person when he is not at work...it is as if he leaves 'Flint' at the gate when he exits the compound, leaves him in his quarters along with his beret and uniform. We were so completely at ease with each other, so completely happy, that for a moment I forgot about GIJOE, about Flint and Lady Jaye, about COBRA, about Chuckles and my job...all that remained was the two of us...Alison and Dashiel...and it was wonderful. I felt...how can I describe it? Content. The sense of warmth, love and belonging...the sense of family...it was so very strong that it almost overwhelmed me.   
  
It was all so different from my memories of childhood among the Harts, and yet so very, very 'right'.  
  
"You ok..." he whispered in my ear as he felt me shiver. "I hope my family didn't scare you off..."  
  
"I'm fine, and no...I had a good time. I just hope they like me..."  
  
"I am sure they did..." he kissed my neck "...how could they not?"  
  
"Your father seemed a bit distant..."  
  
I heard him sigh and felt him lean in closer, as if seeking comfort more than trying to give it.  
  
"Don't worry about him..." he said quietly, and then turned to ask Mickey about the twins, effectively changing the subject. I was too tired to pursue the it anyways, despite my curiosity and concern.   
  
Speaking of tired, I am now sitting up in bed with asleep beside me. We are in Dash's old room...complete with football, baseball and academic trophies as well as numerous books, which his mother said she had found piled at the bottom of his closet when he left for the army. It's cramped, but comfortable...and Dash certainly fell asleep quickly enough...crashing out as soon as his head hit the pillow.  
  
I should join him. Tomorrow is going to be another long day with his family and I need sleep. I just hope I can keep it up and make a good impression. I know its important to Dash that I do...although he would never say anything. The thing is, I have to admit...  
  
...it is important to me as well. 


	30. November 25th

November 25th,  
  
"Vibrant young woman struck dead by toddler armed with soiled diaper...news at eleven."  
  
I don't know how I did it, but I successfully avoided all contact with anything less than 10 years of age all day yesterday, thus preventing any embarrassing situations or awkward questions regarding my complete ignorance of all things 'child'.  
  
I should have known it wouldn't last.  
  
Day two at Faireborn central was spent almost exclusively with the women of the family, for as I was to discover, there is a good reason Rose holds the annual reunion the day before Thanksgiving rather than on the holiday itself.  
  
Two words.  
  
College Football.  
  
By the time the first game had started every living thing in the household who sported the ol' 'Y' chromosome (including the dogs) had disappeared, heading off convoy style to Dash's Uncle Frank's to watch the games on his new wide screen TV...leaving those of us of the fairer sex to our own devices.  
  
Any other time I would have reveled in the opportunity for a little female bonding. Spending most of my time among testosterone charged soldiers makes me long for a little girly chitchat. Problem was, in this case the women came complete with their brood!  
  
I didn't stand a chance.  
  
In fact, despite my degrees, my travels, the battles fought and won...I might as well have been a doddering idiot for all I could contribute in their company! If it weren't for Carole and...if you would believe it...Betty, I probably would have retreated to some dark corner never to emerge again.   
  
It's not the fear of children and all they imply that got to me, although that did play a part. No...this time the discomfort came from being among women who are so completely at ease around kids, so skilled and patient...who possess the mothering instinct in wholly unnatural abundance...that I stand a veritable pariah amongst them.  
  
There are choices one makes in life, paths chosen while others are abandoned. All my life I have been driven by career, whether it came in the form of academia, the stage...or eventually the army...my drive to succeed shut out everything. GIJOE especially requires the type of all encompassing commitment that precludes all else.   
  
People will tell you that you can do both...be a good mother and successful in your career. While I don't doubt that there are women who do, from my own experience I have come to the conclusion that the career mom is a myth...that it is impossible to reach the pinnacle of both without something having to give.   
  
Most of the time its your career that suffers...I mean, how many woman have been looked over for a CEO position despite their qualifications precisely because they couldn't work the long, hard hours the men did due to having child at home waiting for them. Laws and anti- discrimination rules aside, it DOES HAPPEN. It isn't overt...but never doubt it exists.  
  
Of course, you always have the option of establishing yourself in your career BEFORE starting that family. Many, many women opt for that route. But guess what? By the time you have reached the top you are already in your late thirties and, as my mother keeps reminding me...its very, very difficult to get pregnant when you pass thirty five!  
  
Oh...my mother. The other end of the spectrum. Just look at how I grew up. Sure, I had everything I ever wanted, but unfortunately my mother was...indifferent. Her priorities lay elsewhere...the business, the social scene...I was secondary and I knew it. My mother is a powerful woman...successful beyond reckoning. But as a maternal figure she comes up lacking every time.  
  
...and guess who I learned from? Guess who guided me despite my struggle to break away?  
  
I am my mother's child in more ways than I like to admit. She shaped me in those early years...set me on the path I tread today even if she hates my choice of career. My drive to succeed is pure Katherine Hart.  
  
As a result of her early influence, the women I ended up choosing as friends and mentors were all like-minded...it was a rare thing indeed for a friend of mine to talk of children, families, minivans and little league. Even Shana and Courtney seldom speak of it, knowing full well that to make that choice would be mean the end of their careers with GIJOE. How can one continue to throw oneself into harm's way when there is a small life waiting at home that needs you?  
  
Need...therein lies the clincher. No longer can you live for the moment, no longer can you run around without a care in the world...the only person to answer to yourself. Once you become a parent, there is no turning back. You loose your freedom...you...you...  
  
Hell. Who am I kidding? I AM scared!  
  
These little...beings...they need you. They NEED you in a way that no other thing on the planet will ever possibly come close. One wrong move and WHAM...they resent you for the rest of their lives!  
  
The whole thing terrifies me.  
  
Yet...look at these women. Carole, Lynne, Joan...even Rose and Betty...they all did it, or are doing it. They don't flinch when they run wild in the house, they don't panic when they cry, wondering what they want...they know exactly what to do in all situations. Not only that...both Lynne and Joan are pretty successful in their own right. Joan is a nurse and Lynne teaches high school.   
  
Carole doesn't work, but is hardly idle. She is currently working on her doctorate part time. She already has two kids...one of whom is ONLY eight months old AND to top it all off she is pregnant again! I don't know where she finds the energy.  
  
"I told you breast feeding doesn't prevent ovulation..." Joan shook her head and laughed as she watched Carole suck back another three pickles, "...I thought you were a scientist."  
  
"Shut up and pass the ice cream..."  
  
At the word breastfeeding I think all color drained from my face. Grabbing a magazine, I politely excused myself and wandered out into the living room.  
  
Only one problem...there is no escape in this household! The children, all of them curious about this new person who had come with their favorite uncle, followed me everywhere I went. I think the youngest bunch would have followed into the washroom had I let them! Then there were the stares...like they had never seen a single woman before.  
  
"It's your accent dear...they're just curious..." Rose patted my hand as I sat stunned at the kitchen table earlier in the day, surrounded by silent, gaping children. "...I bet you they're a bit jealous too...they don't like sharing their Uncle Dash's attention."  
  
"Oh great"...I thought...imagining a scene similar to something out of 'Lord of the Flies' "...they hate me. Typical."  
  
Anyhow...there I sat, trying to flip through a rather battered copy of 'Vanity Fair', when I felt Carole ease down next to me. Handing me a bowl of ice cream with one hand while shooing of the children with the other, we sat in silence for a few moments enjoying the soothing taste of Ben and Jerry's 'Cherry Garcia'.  
  
"You don't know much about kids, do you?" she asked quietly, as she took another spoonful in her mouth.  
  
I didn't answer, merely shrugged. I certainly didn't want to reveal my weakness to Dash's family...despite any affection I feel toward the woman in question. I have known then for less than 24 hours, and on top of it all I wanted them to like me...not cast me out!  
  
"Come on, Allie...its written all over your face..." she laughed "Every time they come near it looks as though you are going to jump out of your skin."  
  
I frowned.  
  
"Is it that obvious?"  
  
"Yeah..." This from Joan, who had wandered into the room with Lynne close behind, "...You look just like Carole did when she held her first baby. Mind you...she dropped the poor thing..."  
  
"Are you ever going to let me forget that?"  
  
"NO!" They both answered in unison and broke out in laughter.   
  
"What's so funny?" Rose and Betty had entered the room, along with Betty's three grown daughters and some other cousins. I began to pray to whatever god's were listening that the subject would turn to something more benign...like politics or religion!  
  
"We were just remembering the time Carole dropped little Jamie..." Lynne giggled.  
  
"HE WAS SLIPPERY!"  
  
Ray's wife plowed on despite Carole's outburst "...it seems that Alison here knows even less about kids than Carole did...which is saying a lot."   
  
At that they all turned to stare at me with looks of shock and astonishment on their faces. The silence in the room was deafening...the only sounds the muffled shouts of the children scattered around the house.  
  
Kill me now.  
  
"Ummm...well...you see...I don't really have much experience with young children..." I began, but was cut off before I could wheedle my way out of this rapidly worsening situation.  
  
"Well..." huffed Betty, standing up suddenly, "...that will never do. Carole?"  
  
The woman beside me smiled and nodded before getting up and exiting the room in a flash.  
  
"I don't think..."  
  
"Ah ah ah!" the infamous aunt held up a hand to silence me, "...I don't want to hear any excuses. God knows I have heard them all in my lifetime. You think you lack maternal instincts, don't you? Women today...career, career, career. They forget the simple things...oy...Don't narrow your eyes at me young lady! I wasn't born yesterday...I was a feminist before you were an idea in your parent's minds! Success mean finding a balance in life, not driving to the top of everything!"   
  
I looked up to see Carole enter the room again, holding the baby who looked as though she had just woken up and was about to start wailing like an air raid siren. Now...if you think I was astounded by Aunt Betty's little outburst, I nearly had a coronary when Carole placed the infant on my lap before retreating to sit with Rose.  
  
"What...I...wait...NO...I don't think..." I fumbled around, shifting my weight as I tried to get a handle on the kid on my lap, completely clueless as to what to do. My only consolation at that point was that the baby looked about as stunned as I did.  
  
"Oh boy...I see now why my nephew herds the kids away from you. Men! They are so clueless! You will never learn if you don't get your hands dirty."   
  
"But..." It was no use, Betty was on a roll.  
  
"Welcome to maternal instinct boot camp!" Betty barked...bloody hell the woman missed her calling...she should have been a drill sergeant, "...lesson number one, how to hold a baby..."  
  
For the next four or five hours (it might as well have been days for all I know) I was dragged through the most horrendous, difficult, grueling, back breaking training sessions I think I had ever experienced. Beachhead has NOTHING on Aunt Betty.  
  
I changed diapers, heated bottles, burped, soothed, ran with after toddlers trying to get them dressed...or undressed...or to sit still for two seconds. I fed a baby, pulled a three year old out of the rafters (these things climb better than mountain goats...you can't turn your head for a second before one of them is swinging from the chandelier), read to the twins (who I am sure are going to be the next Siskel and Ebert...everyone's a critic! Master storyteller or no, I can only be so creative with dinosaurs...), helped a tweenager with her French homework and tried to explain to a five year old why pulling his cousin's hair was not the proper way to get a girl's attention.  
  
Hell...I was even vomited on!  
  
"Betty..." I overheard Dash's mother in the kitchen as Carole and I tried to break up a fight between two of the boys, "...don't you think you are being a little hard on the girl? I do want more grandchildren at some point. At this rate she is going to give herself a hysterectomy before she leaves here."  
  
"They aren't married, Rosie..." she answered sharply "...and I know what I'm doing..."  
  
I would like to be able to tell you that I breezed through all of it, that I finally found my rhythm and became something of a super-mom. Truth is, it was hard as all hell and I made a lot of mistakes. A LOT...but the other women were behind me every step of the way, encouraging, guiding...laughing too.  
  
Who knew you can put a diaper on backwards?  
  
Nevertheless, by the time things began to quiet down I was feeling discouraged. I had done everything that was asked of me and all I had gotten out of it was a bad headache and a sense of failure. I was more convinced than ever that I lacked the instinct.   
  
"You ok?" Rose came into the room where I sat alone, watching the rainfall through the widow. She handed me little eight-month-old Emily along with her bottle and sat down on the chair across from me. "Betty isn't pushing you too hard is she. She tends to go overboard sometimes."  
  
"Nah...I just needed a break."  
  
"It's hard work isn't it?"  
  
I nodded, too tired to respond. As far as I could tell this was the end of my 'life as a Faireborn'...over before it even began. There was no way that this woman would allow her son to see someone so obviously lacking the all important 'child rearing' skills. Hart's don't do 'domestic'...  
  
"Hard, hard work..." she continued "...but well worth it."  
  
"You know the only way to learn is through example, and of course getting down an dirty yourself. The mothering instinct isn't something you are born with...its something that develops over time. From what I see...yours is just a little late in coming..."  
  
"I doubt it." I harrumphed. I had had it up to my eyeballs with this. Where the heck was Dash? When the football game was over I was going to have him take me to the airport.   
  
Rose merely smiled at me and leaned over to whisper in my ear.  
  
"I think your wrong, dear...very wrong..."   
  
With that she stood up, winked at me, pointed to the baby, and left.  
  
I sat there for a good few minutes before I realized what she was trying to tell me...to show me.   
  
Incredible!  
  
While she and I had been talking I had taken the little one expertly in my arms and bottle-fed her without even knowing it! I didn't flinch...I didn't tense up...I just did it!   
  
I looked down into her bright blue eyes and she stared back up at me in silence before I felt her little hand wrap around my finger. She smiled then, and I felt this strange fluttering in my heart...something I had never felt before. I smiled back down at her and tickled her stomach, which made her giggle.  
  
I think that is how Dash found me. I looked up and found him frozen in the doorway, staring at me as though he had just seen a ghost. Our eyes met and I smiled at him quickly before turning my attention back to the baby, who was obviously still hungry.  
  
He didn't say a word, merely came over to kiss me on the forehead, and then slowly walked out of the room. His expression was something I had never seen before...shock and...something else. Who knows? I wasn't paying attention anyways. I was too in awe of what I had just done.  
  
I had taken care of a baby...I had done it right...and the kid SMILED at me!  
  
SMILED!  
  
In fact, as I looked back over the day...I realized how much I had accomplished despite the wrong turns I took along the way. Had any of this happened to me as little as a year ago I would have been out the door before you could say 'pampers', but somehow this time I managed to control my fear and stick it out. I am not quite sure what is going on with me lately, but I can't say I'm that upset about it...a little confused...but not upset.  
  
Anyhow...turns out the guys brought back Chinese food. Apparently this is an after Thanksgiving tradition in the household. Thank god for that...I don't want to know what would have happened if Betty found out I couldn't cook!   
  
I ate way too much again...it seems like the Faireborn clan are determined to fatten me up for the slaughter. I am not a big eater, and as a result am very lethargic right now as I sit up in bed watching Dash rifle through his closet.   
  
He's been quiet tonight. Too quiet, really. Its not like him...he is usually such a big mouth. When I brought it up he laughed and said he had shouted himself hoarse while watching the game and couldn't find the energy to even talk. I don't believe him, of course. I have seen him bark at recruits for 10 hours straight and still manage to brag about himself at the bar later that evening.  
  
No. Something is bothering him...and I have a feeling it has something to do with the fact that he spent the day with his father. I don't know what it is with those two...but call it women's intuition, I have a feeling it has something to do with me. The 'Colonel' has been nothing but polite since I arrived...but that's about it. Just polite. I catch him watching me every so often, studying me...as if trying to figure out what I am all about. It's disconcerting, but I'll live.  
  
Dash, on the other hand, seems to be getting more and more...discouraged? I guess that's how I would describe it. He hides it well, but I've known him too long to be fooled by his smoke and mirrors act.   
  
Oh...he's found what he's looking for and is excitedly trying to get my attention. I guess I had better wrap this up. 


	31. November 26th

November 26th,  
  
"Ok...now slowly reel it in and then cast out again. Watch where it lands this time...keep your eye on it...good, good..." I stood on the deck as the Colonel's warm hands guided mine through the age-old motion. He paused as we both looked out onto the calm water of the lake, still partially shrouded by the early morning fog.  
  
"So...I understand you've seen combat..."  
  
And so began one of the strangest conversations I have had in a long, long time.   
  
You are probably wondering how in the world I ended up fishing out on Butler Lake, alone in a boat with Dash's father. I am still a bit bewildered at the whole scene myself.   
  
It all began early this morning...very early.   
  
I was having trouble sleeping and had decided to go down to the kitchen for something to drink. Eating, of course, was out of the question, as I was still suffering from last night's Chinese food orgy...but I had caught the scent of fresh coffee brewing downstairs and the temptation was too much.  
  
It was chilly, so I slipped into a pair of jeans and one of Dashiell's flannel shirts before heading quietly down the hall so as to not wake anyone. Dash was out like a light and didn't even stir as I left the warmth of the bed. Usually he is a light sleeper, but I suppose in the comfort of his home he doesn't feel the need to sleep with one eye open, a habit he developed during his days with special ops.  
  
In any case, there was no one in the darkened kitchen so I quickly poured myself a mug of java, grabbed my jacket, and headed outside to take in the sunrise.  
  
The land around the old farmhouse was covered in a thin mist, and the sun was just inching its way across the horizon, bathing the fields in a soft glow. It really is beautiful out here...tranquil. The air is fresh and clean, and though it lacked the comforting salty tang of the sea, the Midwest is certainly not as boring as I was led to believe.  
  
It was with thoughts of water and the ocean that I made my way down to the side of the house where...on a trailer hitched up to a big red Dodge Ram pickup...stood a beauty of a boat. I ran my hand along its hull; reveling in the feel of the soft, smooth mahogany on my skin. It was a good sized craft, and obviously well taken care off.  
  
So busy was I looking at the boat that I failed to notice the figure on the bow.  
  
"Couldn't sleep?"  
  
I jumped at the sound of the voice, nearly spilling my coffee all over my shirt, and turned to see the Colonel staring down at me, his face expressionless.  
  
"No...I smelled the coffee and it drew me in. I am sorry to bother you." I turned to walk away but his voice stopped me.  
  
"She's a beauty, isn't she?" He said, almost to himself. He certainly wasn't expecting an answer, and was a bit stunned when I spoke.  
  
"A Chris Craft Runabout...circa 1930 I should guess...in good condition too..."  
  
"You know your boats..." he raised an eyebrow in surprise.  
  
"You see a lot of them growing up in the Vineyard. My dad had one just like it...a wedding gift from my uncle. She was called Hart's Desire" I ran my hand lovingly against the chrome edge of the gunnels, "...he used to take me out on it when I was a kid."  
  
I didn't add that my mother had sold the thing only months after his death, replacing it at the family dock with a huge Sea Ray 'Sundancer' which I quickly christened Hart's Blood. The irony of the name was lost on her.  
  
He pause and stared at me for a moment, his eyes intense.  
  
"Martha's Vineyard? I thought Dash said you were from Boston." He murmured, the expression on his face familiar to me...it is the same look Dash gets when he has just figured something out that's a bit distasteful and is not quite sure how to handle it.  
  
"I'm from a lot of places...Boston, the Vineyard, Scotland, Ireland..." I smiled uncomfortably, not quite sure what I had done to set him off, "...but I guess I would call the island home."  
  
We stood in silence, the only sound that of the crickets singing in the fields around us and the occasional creak as the boat settled against the trailer. From his perch in the cockpit the Colonel stared down, considering me carefully. I was about to retreat back to the house when I heard his voice break the still morning air.  
  
"...Do you fish?"  
  
So it was that I was loaded into the cab of the pickup along with Shep and a huge tackle box, and an hour later found myself in the middle of a lake fumbling with the unfamiliar feel of a fishing rod in my hand.   
  
The journey out here had been spent in companionable silence, broken only by the occasional conversation about boats and sailing, as well as Shep's excited whines as we neared the water.  
  
It was odd, but not uncomfortable...and both of us were loath to break the spell of the wind in our hair once we took off across the water in search of the perfect spot to drop our lines. After that, it was all about fishing.  
  
The Faireborn patriarch is as good a teacher as Dash...patient and willing. I knew nothing about the sport despite being on the water most of my life and growing up eating seafood the way some kids eat hotdogs, but by the end of the day I was casting my line with ease. He showed me how to find the fish and pick a lure...he guided me through the various motions of casting and reeling...he talked of Bass and Catfish, Walleye and Crappie...and I listened intently, interjecting with a question here and there, sharing some tales of my cousins and their deep sea exploits with Shark and Marlin.  
  
In fact, it wasn't until we about ready to head in that the conversation suddenly turned more personal.  
  
"...I understand you've seen combat..."  
  
I stayed silent, my eyes on the lure bobbing in the water a few feet ahead of me. I didn't know what to say. GIJOE is a secret organization, and although Dash's father is quite well connected in the military, to confirm his statement would reveal more than I am willing or allowed to share. Women see combat in one unit and one unit only...  
  
He laughed quietly when he realized no response was forthcoming.  
  
"You are like my son, tight mouthed about your work with Abernathy." He paused as he cast his line out again, watching it fall in the water precisely where he had planned.  
  
"I had heard rumors that women were fighting at the frontlines beside the men. I didn't quite believe it until I heard about you. I wasn't sure what to make of it...I'm still not." He leaned back in his chair, "I have been in battle and I know what's its like...I saw action Okinawa and Midway...I won't lie to you, it was horrid, a nightmare made real. I lost my brother there. I sent three sons to Vietnam...two came back. I'm not too keen on seeing wives, mothers and daughters in the fray."  
  
"I'm a soldier as much as you are..." I said quietly, slightly annoyed. Old school thinking...there was nothing to do about it...to defend myself would compromise the Joe team.  
  
"Never said you weren't...never said you weren't. I doubt my son would be partnered with you otherwise. I was going to add that reading your record nearly made me change my mind...nearly. I'm impressed Corporal...not bad for a Hart."  
  
I looked up suddenly at the sound of my family name and met his eye.  
  
"So you ARE a Hart, then." He didn't smile at me, but his eyes held neither anger nor annoyance...merely curiosity. "I thought as much. No wonder my son was acting so strange yesterday."  
  
"He's a good kid, you know. The best of my boys...smart, successful...even if he isn't an officer." He smiled and looked back out onto the water, "You know...of all of them, he was the one who could have gone all the way...retired a General. I saw the potential in him the day he was born...saw it in his eyes."  
  
"He does very well where he is, you know...you should be proud of him." I added quietly, not sure whether I should interrupt. It wasn't my place...or was it?  
  
"Hmmm...what? Oh, the Special Forces...well, as I mentioned he doesn't talk much about it...for all I know he's pushing paper. But I hear things...I know he's right there in the action, commanding, respected...of course I am proud of him. I am proud of all of them...but still..."  
  
He sighed.  
  
"I worry about him...the others not so much. Dash is...he's different. Always been a sensitive kid underneath all the bluster. I don't like seeing him hurt...and he's been hurt before, as you probably know. I warned him, but of course he didn't listen. It's always been like that, I would tell him one thing and he would go and do the exact opposite. I'm glad she's out of his life...nothing but trouble."  
  
"And now he brings you home with him...a debutant cum soldier from one of the wealthiest families on the East Coast...You have to know he'll never be able to give you what you are used to...he's an army boy...a working boy...."  
  
"I never asked..." but he held his hand up to stop me.  
  
"I'm not saying anything...I'm just telling you how I see it. I'm an old man, I know a thing or two about life...and I know my son. He is quite taken with you...blinds him to reality...again. You and he are from two different worlds...I want what's best for my son, I want..."  
  
I don't know how I held it together. I could feel my anger rising, but somehow I held it in check. Somehow I managed to keep my cool and answer him in a steady voice.  
  
"You want the same things I want...to see him happy..."  
  
We looked at each other for a moment, and then I saw him smile.   
  
"You've got a temper...I can see it in your eyes. You were going to rip my head off, weren't you?"  
  
"I can neither confirm nor deny..." I smiled back and laughed, suddenly realizing what this was all about, "You took me out here to ask me my intentions towards your son, didn't you?"  
  
At that he got all blustery and began to act...well...to act exactly like Flint would if caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Carole told me yesterday that the two of them never got along...that they were too different. After today, I have to disagree...  
  
...They are too much alike!  
  
"I gave it all up years ago...long before I met Dash. The money, I mean." I reeled in my line slowly, "As far as the Harts are concerned I am dead to them."  
  
He looked over at me...and listened as I continued.  
  
"I would be lying if I said I didn't miss it. But I made my choices in life and I have no regrets..." I met his eye, confident, unflinching, "...and I love your son. I didn't let anything get in my way when I left for the military...and I will not let anything get in my way with Dash. Not money, not my mother, not you...not anyone..."  
  
We continued to stare at each other in silence as I waited for him to blow a fuse and throw me off his boat.  
  
"You know..." he paused, collecting his thoughts "I think you are going to fit in here just fine...Corpo...Alison."  
  
He smiled at me then and patted my shoulder affectionately, but before I could respond I felt a tug at the end of my rod.   
  
"Hey...HEY! I think I got a bite...I got a bite...WOW!"  
  
"Good girl! Now remember what I told you...."  
  
And so ended my unexpected interview with Colonel Joe Faireborn. On the way back, he asked me more questions about myself, and my family. He is a nice man, a good man. And he obviously loves his family.   
  
Speaking of which, they were all waiting for us when we finally made our way up the driveway at lunchtime, staring at me incredulously.  
  
"What do you mean you went fishing?" Dash stood before me amazed as I showed off the Bass I had caught, "...fishing? With my dad...on the boat?"  
  
"No Dash, we fished from the truck. Of course we went on the boat. It handles really well, although I think that the rudder needs to be adj..."  
  
"He let you DRIVE the boat????" Carole exclaimed from behind me, Mickey and John just stood there with their mouths hanging open. Ray merely sat down and shook his head in amazement. Dash looked ready to collapse.  
  
"What? What's a matter with you guys? Don't you like fish?" I held it up again, rather proud of myself..."I wanted to put it back, but your father wouldn't let me...said we could have it for dinner..."  
  
"Which means I am going to have to show you how to clean the thing..." The Colonel came up behind me and took the fish from my hands "...its too bad we don't have a camera...you can send a picture to those Hart cousins of yours. Show them what a real fisherman can do. Marlin my ass...Dash, what's the matter with you, son? You look like you've seen a ghost..."  
  
"Allie, go and see what you can do about the rudder on that thing...I'll put this baby on ice." Dash and the others stared at me with their mouths hanging open as their father walked up the stairs towards the house  
  
As he passed Dashiell, he stopped and said something in a low voice. I couldn't quite make it out, but Dash blinked hard twice, turning to look at me with an odd expression on his face.   
  
Mind you, as he disappeared through the door his last few words were clear enough to be heard by all of us.  
  
"That girl is a Fairborn...temper and all."  
  
Everyone stood frozen in place for a split second, before rushing at me all at once.  
  
"Welcome to the family, girl!" Lynne kissed me on the cheek. I was confused and didn't really know what to say.   
  
"God, he never lets ANYONE on his boat. Especially not a female! How the heck did you do it?" Carole hugged me, jumping up and down like a schoolgirl.  
  
"I didn't do anything!"  
  
"Well, you obviously did something..." Ray smiled and hugged me, "...my father has given you the thumbs up."  
  
"More than the thumbs up! He let her take the wheel of the old girl!" John laughed, "Christ, Dash...you had better not let this one out of your sight or Dad will kill you..."  
  
"Did he say Hart?" Joannie asked, "You're a Hart?! And he took you fishing? Wow..."   
  
Dash meanwhile was still frozen on the porch, in his own little world. I left the gaggle of siblings behind me as I approached him, taking his hand.  
  
"You ok? Did I do something wrong?"  
  
He looked down on me then and smiled, bringing his hand up to brush my cheek.  
  
"No...you didn't do anything wrong. Nothing wrong at all..." and suddenly I found myself in his arms as he spun me round in sheer delight.   
  
"You are amazing, you know that?" He laughed at my confused expression and kissed me.   
  
"You are all insane! The whole lot of you!" I exclaimed, trying not to laugh.  
  
'Yeah..." Mickey ruffled my hair as he passed, "...but as far as my father is concerned you are one of us now. So I guess we had better fit you for a straight jacket."  
  
So there you have it...somehow I had passed the test. I had been interviewed and accepted by the Colonel. Seems as though I am the only one who has done so BEFORE being engaged to one of the boys, and after knowing him for less than 48 hours. That I had been on the boat was a tale that would be told for generations to come. Apparently he is worse than Dash is about his car when it comes to the old Chris Craft.  
  
I sat between Dash and his father at dinner tonight, both of them dotting on me like I was some long lost relative. The two men still hardly said a word to each other...stubborn fools, Lynne calls them...but they seemed to find some common ground via me, some vessel through which they could communicate in a strange, unspoken language.  
  
I wonder if I should tell Dash what his father said to me...about how proud he was of his son. I know it would make his day, despite the gruff answers I usually get when I bring up their relationship. I could tell he loves his father...and is desperate for his approval in spite of any contrary behavior.  
  
I saw a picture of Tom today on the mantle in the great room. He does look a lot like Dash...right down to the beret. I only learned of his existence while in DC, as Dash took a trip to the Vietnam memorial the day after the gala and came back a looking a bit melancholy. At first he wouldn't tell me what was bothering him, but he opened up over dinner and it was then I learned of Tom Faireborn and the sad circumstances surrounding Dash's appearance on the scene.   
  
He is convinced his father compares him unfavorably to his lost eldest. I don't doubt that Dash grew up in Tom's shadow, pain and loss coloring everything he knew as a young child, so much so that even when he was older and his father started seeing his youngest unclouded by memories of his lost son the pattern of behavior and interaction was set in stone. Neither of them knows how to interact without that shadow hanging between them.  
  
I suppose I shouldn't get involved. Regardless of the wonderful time I have had these past few days I am still, for all intents and purposes and outsider. Who am I to judge right and wrong on 48 hours of observation and some dime store psychological assessment?   
  
I wonder if they will ever be able to work things out between them. Carole says its enough that his father finally approved of something Dash had done, and from the look on his face I knew the roundabout praise hit home. Can walls built up for over 30 years come down over a mere fishing trip? Doubtful...  
  
But maybe it did cause a crack in the foundation.  
  
No. Its up to the two of them to work things out themselves, my interfering, however well intentioned, will most likely do more harm than good. I certainly am no role model for parent-child relations!   
  
I will stay out of it...  
  
...For now. 


	32. March 12th

March 12th,  
  
Trust your instincts...trust your gut...  
  
My aunt always bade me listen to that niggling little voice inside my head when it starts whispering vague warnings. I don't know why I ignored it today, but the disregard nearly cost me my life.  
  
I am presently lying on a hospital bed somewhere in DeMoine. The pain was unbearable for a while, but the drugs they are feeding me through the IV must be kicking in, as all I feel now is a dull ache in my chest. My breathing remains labored, however...and every searing lungful of air requires a supreme effort on my part.  
  
I really shouldn't complain...I could be in the morgue. If it weren't for the Kevlar vest I was wearing Chuckles would be arranging to transport my body back to the Vineyard instead of spending his time filling out insurance forms.  
  
I could have been killed. For all intents and purposes I should have been...Bloody HELL!  
  
Stop shaking...STOP SHAKING!!!!   
  
You aren't a coward...you've been shot at before...you've BEEN SHOT before! Pull yourself together, girl! You're a soldier, ACT LIKE ONE!  
  
God...I can't let anyone see me like this.  
  
Not that anyone is around to witness my moment of weakness. The room itself came complete with two police officers who are presently flanking the door, insuring my privacy. The halls are filled with FBI agents and local law enforcement, so much so that when I came too and saw the wall of 'blue' around me I was certain I was under arrest. Shockwave assured me they were here to keep the press at bay...  
  
"...Unless there is something you aren't telling us! You do seem a little too familiar with that morphine drip!" he laughed as he handed me a drink of water.  
  
Chuckles is outside in the lobby, as is Shockwave. Hit 'n' Run is busy at the crime scene, but did drop by a few hours ago to check in and drop off my bag. I was still out of it at the time, or I would have gotten down on my hands and knees to thank him. There is nothing worse than a hospital gown, and I was never happier than when I discovered my pajamas lying on a chair beside the bed. The bag also contained my journal...neglected of late...and now that I am alone I thought writing would help sort out what happened and maybe calm my shattered nerves.  
  
What a bloody disaster...  
  
Hit 'n' Run and I were flown into Iowa just hours after a group of terrorists opened fire at the airport, taking out seventeen civilians in a hail of gunfire before making a clean getaway despite the virtual stockade of police and federal agents scattered throughout the building. Fearing public backlash if the perpetrators weren't brought down quickly, some 'brain' at the Pentagon decided to bring in 'specialists'. In fact, by the time we touched down the gunmen had managed to take a family hostage and the media was already swarming all over the story, forcing myself and the others to keep a low profile lest we draw unwanted attention to GIJOE.  
  
I met up with Chuckles and Shockwave a couple of miles from the small farmhouse where the criminals were holed up. Saxon, an FBI agent familiar with our team briefed me on the situation, frowning as I narrowed my eyes in irritation.  
  
"So what you are telling me is you have nothing. You know there are three of them but you don't know what they look like. You don't even know what kind of weapons they are carrying..."  
  
"We have worked with less..." Saxon cut me off with a gesture, obviously not used to being questioned.  
  
"I haven't...and definitely not with innocent lives at stake..." I growled, "...I say we wait and..."  
  
"We can't afford the delay!"  
  
"We can't afford NOT to delay..."  
  
"Enough!" Chuckles finally cut in, "Arguing is useless, and we are wasting time. Jaye, I agree with you but at this point in time we have no choice. We have to go in."  
  
Needless to say, being told off by Phil didn't improve my temper but thankfully I had enough sense to keep my mouth shut. The months since I had last worked with him had not softened my resentment regardless of the fact that I now worked for Hawk directly. The move was a promotion no matter which way you looked at it, but the complete takeover of my first love...Covert Ops...remains a sore point and Chuckles knows it.  
  
To tell you the truth, I am surprised Hawk sent me on this one. There are many Joes imminently more qualified to work with the feds in a situation such as this, and definitely less hostile towards the head of the team. I suppose the General thinks it builds character. I could just picture him growling something along the lines of 'Suck it up, Burnett. You go where I tell you to go..." had I attempted to wheedle my way out of it.   
  
No...I had to bow to Chuckles authority on this matter. Further argument would only have resulted in my having to find a good JAG to help save my career. Ironically enough, NOT stressing the salience of my opinion has put me in the hospital.   
  
In any case, a mere two hours after I arrived I found myself driving up to the farmhouse in a brand new BMW, dressed as a door-to-door cosmetic saleslady. I was to make contact with the hostages and provide a distraction for Shockwave, who would make his way towards the side of the house. In the meantime, Hit 'n' Run would attempt to approach the back door via an old storm drain.   
  
Chuckles lay hidden in my trunk...waiting for the signal to spring.  
  
All in all it was a pretty straightforward plan. I have to give it to Aloha-Boy; he has a knack for this kind of thing. Unfortunately, in situations such as this even the simplest of operations have a tendency to blow up in your face.  
  
Especially when you are going in blind...  
  
Putting my qualms behind me, I got into character and approached the house with all the confidence and air-brained naiveté of your typical Mary Kay rep. No one would have been able to tell I was anything but what I seemed, I doubt even my mother would have recognized me. Some of the cops who came around later commented that even they did a double take when they saw me emerge from the car and head towards the door.  
  
No...it wasn't my acting that gave me away. It was my own stupidity.  
  
The woman who answered looked innocent enough. Obviously nervous, she seemed distracted and quite tense...but given the situation one could hardly blame her. Even so, I found myself hesitating. There was something 'not right' about her...I couldn't put my finger on it, but given the brief window of opportunity I had no time to delve further into the source of my unease. The 'hostage' had begun to withdraw into the house...preparing to send me on my way...and out of the corner of my eye I noticed that Shockwave was still in the open, making his way towards his position. I had to act and fast!   
  
Ignoring my worries I smiled and handed her my card...on it was written in big bold letters "PLAY ALONG WITH ME. WE ARE HERE TO RESCUE YOU".  
  
She smiled then...and my heart fell. It was not a smile of relief, but one of evil triumph.   
  
Before I could react, my 'innocent' looking hostage had pulled a gun and fired, hitting me square in the chest with such force it knocked the breath right out of me. Even as I stood there teetering, she continued to unload her weapon into me, every bullet sending a searing pain through my body until I was praying she would run out of ammo.  
  
I blacked out before she stopped to reload...or maybe Chuckles finally managed to bring her to bay. I don't know. I can't remember.   
  
I did come to for a few moments and found myself beside Chuckles, who was crouched down behind the car, firing at the house in an attempt to give the others cover. The sound of gunfire filled the air and bullets were peppering the poor BMW. I was in terrible pain, so much so that I didn't want to move lest I black out again. When he saw my eyes open, Phil leaned over and asked me if I was all right...told me to hold on cause help was on the way.  
  
"I'm fine...Kevlar..." I said, but my voice was strained and the effort to speak caused me to cough uncontrollably. My lungs were on fire and my chest felt like it was in a vice...I gasped for air as blood began to trickle from my mouth.  
  
"Jaye...LADY JAYE...hold on...the paramedics are coming. Where the HELL are they?! OFFICER DOWN!!!! OFFICER DOWN!!!! Stay with me girl...stay with me...Jaye...ALISON!" Chuckles' desperate shouts sounded as though they were coming from miles away and then everything went black.  
  
I awoke in the hospital several hours later, much to everyone's relief.  
  
The doctors tell me that the Kevlar saved my life...that I would have been dead on the spot had those bullets not been blocked. Despite this, the force of their impact shattered some ribs...not broken...SHATTERED. An Ingram packs a wallop at the best of times. At point blank range it would be comparable to getting hit in the chest by a minivan.  
  
That said, broken ribs alone didn't send me to the emergency via chopper. No...painful though it is, I could have borne it quite stoically. Unfortunately, the sharp bones that formed the devastated remains of my ribcage ripped into a lung, the damage made worse by the rough handling I received being dragged out of the line of fire. Weakened and battered, the organ collapsed...causing me to go into respiratory distress.  
  
The doctors here have managed to patch me up, but I remain weak and unable to breath well on my own. Oxygen stands at the ready, and there are several IV tubes stuck into my arm...antibiotics, opiates for the pain (woo hoo), fluids...you name it, I've got it. They are worried about infection or even pneumonia and want to keep me here a couple of days before risking a move.   
  
Yeah...like that's going to happen. I actually feel quite a bit better. I am going to be out of here as soon as...  
  
Ow...  
  
Ow...ow...ow...  
  
Ok, maybe moving is not the most brilliant idea at the moment. I just want out! I am not at all comfortable in hospitals. Never have been...to me they reek of death. As soon as I can I am going to have Chuckles sign me out...I can be very convincing when I want to be.  
  
When I was finally able to string more than two words together I 'ordered' Phil to keep my situation to himself. I was fine and would report the injury in person when I returned to base. He was reluctant, but finally agreed after seeing me wince in pain as nurse 'Mengele' shoved yet another IV needle into my arm.  
  
I think he feels guilty, responsible. As he well should! Next time maybe he will listen to me...  
  
Yes...I said next time.   
  
Ok...I admit it. I am not as irritated with him as I was earlier. It's hard to remain angry with a man who risked life and limb to save your sorry ass, and it certainly doesn't help that he is a genuinely likeable guy. Truth is, every mission he has been given has been completed with flair in the face of some pretty overwhelming odds. Could I have done better? Maybe...but that shouldn't stop me from giving credit where credit is due. I'm mature enough to do that, aren't I?  
  
Speaking of maturity, I have an ulterior motive for keeping my injury from GIJOE.   
  
Humiliation.  
  
Yes...call me an idiot...but to me this injury is nothing but a sign of weakness and failure. It doesn't matter that my teammates would never see it that way. It doesn't matter that the others wrapped things up nicely...not without some difficulty mind you, but the family is safe and the hostages dead. All that I care about is they did it without me! I went down for the count! I didn't even have the sense to draw my sidearm!  
  
...Like a lamb to the slaughter...  
  
Not to mention the last thing I need right now is Flint bursting in here like a bloody madman. I still remember the time on Staten Island when Roadblock had to physically restrain him in the lobby after I was shot in the shoulder by that Crimson Guard...and we weren't even an item at that point!   
  
Since Thanksgiving we have been away from each other more often than not, assigned to duties that carry us to opposite ends of the globe. We did manage to spend Christmas together, although we were both on duty at the time. New Years was a different story altogether...he was somewhere in South America while I was on a carrier in the Persian Gulf...and Valentine's day was much the same.  
  
It's hard...but its nothing we can't handle. It's not any different from before...well, ok...it IS different from before but what can I do about it? His career is taking off and the increased responsibility mean less free time, while my role on the team has shifted to the point where we rarely find ourselves working together.  
  
I am certain the separation is deliberate. He is a commander now, third down from Hawk...and as a result the brass can only see his relationship with me as an unnecessary and potentially dangerous distraction. The professional in me understands.   
  
The woman in me misses him terribly.  
  
Ah yes...the two sides of my psyche...even now they fight their battle for supremacy inside my head.  
  
Lady Jaye wants to be left alone to recover like the soldier she is...wearing her scars like badges of honor. She wants to walk out of here proud, tough, unflinching...laughing in the face of danger.   
  
Alison wants to curl up into a ball and escape from the grim reality of the situation. She is shaking and wants nothing more than to fall into Flint's arms and cry. She is confused, in pain, and terrified at this brush with death. She needs his strength...needs him to keep her safe.  
  
Thing is, I NEED to be Lady Jaye right now. I can't let my fears and weakness rule me...I have to pull myself together and walk out of here a soldier!!! This kind of thing is part and parcel of the life I have chosen. One cannot avoid ones own mortality...  
  
...the problem is, being a Joe brings death a little too close for comfort.  
  
I can just hear Flint quoting John Donne in his soft, rumbling baritone.  
  
"Ask not for whom the bell toll, it tolls for thee..."  
  
Wait a minute...  
  
WHAT?  
  
That IS his voice. What is he doing here...How did he...? Was that a crash?!   
  
A shìorraidh! The police are restraining him at the door...I had better go. 


	33. March 18th

March 18th  
  
You'll never guess where I am...not in a million years...   
  
I can't quite believe it myself!  
  
I am at home. No...not Scotland, not home at 'The PITT' either. Yes...that's right...I'm in Boston. In fact, I am currently on an antique double bed in what used to be my room in this...the Hart penthouse. The house in the Vineyard is locked up for the winter months, and I was 'lucky' (if you could call it that) that my mother wasn't in France as she normally is this time of year.   
  
How did I end up here? Well, that's a story in itself...one that is sure to get my temper going again. After tea with my mother and grandmother, I can tell you my back is up quite a ways...so I doubt putting the events of the last week down on paper is going to make much of a difference. Any broken ribs that could pop out of place due to tension probably already have.  
  
It is precisely this injury that sparked the unfortunate situation. Flipping back to my previous journal entry I see that I was still in the hospital when last I wrote. Moreover, it looks as though Flint had just entered the picture before I was forced to wrap up.   
  
Flint...Dash...was nearly arrested for assaulting a police officer at that precise moment, and it was only Beachhead's quick reflexes and Shockwave's 'in' with the boys in blue that prevented a very ugly incident.  
  
When he finally made it into the room and I caught sight of him, my heart leapt to my throat. His eyes were wild with dread and grief, his face barely hiding his anxiety. Here was a man skilled...nay, obsessive...about concealing emotion in front of his fellow Joes...a man who uses humor and arrogance to mask feelings of apprehension or fear...who stood before me a wreck, barely able to stand.  
  
In fact, before I even had a chance to say hello he had fallen to his knees on the floor beside my bed...oblivious to the soldiers and cops gathered in the room. Grabbing my hand and squeezing it tightly, he began to babble incoherently about losing me. Somehow, I slowly managed to calm him down and piece together how he came to be here.  
  
Poor Dash!  
  
It seems that a sneaky CNN cameraman had caught my little 'accident' on tape before the FBI had a chance to stop him. Needless to say, media coverage of a hostage situation is inevitable, but one needs to keep reporters at arms length lest they inadvertently reveal plans of attack to the criminals inside. In any case, and unfortunately for me, by the time the camera was seized the footage had already been fed to the station and out to the television sets of John Q Public...including the one in the recreation room down in the PITT where Flint and his team were relaxing for a few hours before they shipped out on their next assignment.  
  
According to Wild Bill, it took four Joes to restrain him when he saw me go down...and then another two to keep him from running out and taking off on the first chopper he could get his hands on.  
  
He was in no state to fly.  
  
Flint, stoic, fun loving, tough as nails soldier, lost it.  
  
No one knew what to do with him. Christ, all of them were thrown for a loop! The three people who would know how to handle Dash were unavailable and no one else could get near enough to even try and calm him. Duke and Roadblock were both down in Florida training for Star Brigade...and for all intents and purposes they all thought I was dead. DEAD! Killed then and there.  
  
God! Flint thought I had been killed! He had no way of knowing I was wearing a flak jacket...he had no way of knowing I was alive, if not well, in a local civilian hospital...  
  
...he had no way of knowing because he couldn't get in touch with our team. He had no way of knowing because 'I' ordered Chuckles not to divulge my condition to the brass back at HQ.  
  
Boy...was he PISSED at me when he found out about that.  
  
I considered keeping that little bit of information to myself, but realizing that Phil was going to keep quiet about it even with Flint about to tear him another asshole, I decided to come clean. It's funny...less than 48 hours before I would have wanted a front row seat for that action. Instead, I bore the full brunt of Flint's tirade...and let me tell you, after what I just put him through I truly deserved it.   
  
After waiting for what seemed like hours for any information about our status, and being forced to watch me fall in an ungraceful heap over and over as the clip reran on pretty much ever station, Flint could sit idle no longer. Problem was, he really COULDN'T leave the base. The powers that be expected him to leave with his team in less than 24hrs...no exceptions.  
  
Of course, the 'powers that be' in this case had never run up against a bull headed, grief stricken Joe Warrant Officer...one who was well liked and respected by his team...whose men would go to bat for him no matter what the cost because they knew he would do the same if situations were reversed.  
  
So it was that Wild Bill flew him into Iowa. So it was that Beachhead accompanied them, scanning the police radio frequency once they came into range and calling every hospital in the immediate vicinity looking for word.  
  
So it was that he ended up here on the floor next to my bed, shaking as he gently stroked my head...trying to get as close to me as possible without hurting me. Had he not been warned he likely would have scooped me up right then and there, crushing my ribs yet again as he hugged me close as he is wont to do when he is feeling particularly upset...and at that moment he was MORE than particularly upset.   
  
I felt AWFUL!  
  
Too bad Dash is not very skilled at playing the guilt card. He had me by the 'proverbials' for a good while there; I would have done anything for him! I was feeling terrible and despite my injury was at his beck and call! I had never seen him like that...truth was it scared me. He was so upset that he could hardly string two words together. If the conversation at the White House didn't convince me of the sincerity of his feeling for me, the scene in the hospital room certainly did!  
  
That said, the moment he pulled himself together (which I have to say was very soon after I had sufficiently reassured him that I was still among the living and planned to stay that way for some time) he managed to do the one thing guaranteed to make me mad as hell.  
  
He called my mother.   
  
Yes...Dashiell Faireborn...my 'working class' boyfriend and taboo lover got on the phone to Boston and told Katherine Hart to come and pick me up in Iowa. This after ordering, not suggesting or asking politely, ORDERING me home on sick leave.  
  
Ooooo...if I wasn't still feeling guilty about the whole 'keeping my injury a secret' thing I think I would call him up right now and rip his head off. Sure...it's all fine and good for him! HE is in a jungle somewhere in Bali living it up among the leeches, poisonous insects and COBRA snipers while I have to be subjected to yet ANOTHER evening at a five star restaurant where my life is placed under a microscope and dissected piece by piece...each one coming up more 'repulsive' to the socially sensitive Hart's than the other!  
  
Granted...she had no idea who she was talking to. She keeps referring to him as Mr. Flint, and is convinced he is nothing more than my commanding officer. It seems Dash kept the conversation short and professional. I suppose I should also be grateful that they didn't cross paths at the hospital...I was in no condition to mediate the inevitable confrontation between these two very strong and willful personalities. Flint had left reluctantly soon after making the arrangements that saw me safely home. Had it been possible I think he would have stayed by my side until I was on my feet...but given the legality of his hasty departure from the PITT and the importance of his current mission, he had no choice but to head back to base with Wild Bill, leaving Beachhead behind to help Chuckles wrap up as well as ensure I not slip out before my mother arrived.  
  
I should add...and I hate to admit this...that he was...grrrrr...not wrong...to call. If HE had seen me go down on national television...he figured chances were my mother had as well. Disguises and acting aside, the expression 'not even my mother would recognize me' proved to be a figure of speech in this case!  
  
Sure enough...my cousin Matt had watched the whole thing on unfold on CNN and within an hour the entire Hart clan were ready to send in the lawyers. That said, although Flint reassured my mother of my health and well being, deflecting a potentially crippling lawsuit, the whole episode did little to boost my families perception of my career.   
  
I still cringe when I remember her arrival at my bedside, entering the hospital room in typical flamboyant yet classy Hart fashion. Dressed to the nines in a lovely navy blue Donna Karan pantsuit and tasteful Ralph Lauren overcoat, she looked like a million bucks (which is probably what the outfit ended up costing).   
  
She took two steps into the room before she stopped and took in the scene. I was sitting up right on the bed, maps laid out before me...with Beachhead positioned cross-legged at the foot. Never one to let a moment pass without trying to make my life as miserable as possible, Wayne was determined I should go over (and over and over) the mission and figure out my mistakes and determine when things went wrong.  
  
"I'll tell you when things went wrong...when the first bloody bullet hit me, that's when!" I thought to myself as he glared at me, reading my thoughts.  
  
"Don't give me that look! Broken ribs or not I'll have you on the floor doing 60 before you finish the next thought! I swear, woman...Didn't your daddy ever tell you to learn from your mistakes!"  
  
Grrrrrr.  
  
But I digress.  
  
My mother looked at Beachhead, then at me, then back to Beachhead...and I could practically see the gears beginning to work in her head. She sniffed, shook her hair out, and sighed in exasperation.  
  
"Really, Alison..."  
  
And in that moment, I was no longer an experienced soldier, well schooled linguist and accomplished actress of thirty. No...I was a little girl of four caught playing in the mud in her Versace-Bebe jumpsuit.  
  
Beachhead got up and introduced himself and my mother took his hand firmly, the model of poise and dignity as she discreetly looked him up and down. She retained the friendly smile when Chuckles walked in wearing what must have been his loudest shirt yet, followed by Shockwave...who was armed to the teeth and grinning wildly as he threw me a tee shirt. On it was written in big bold letters...COPS DO IT IN KEVLAR. On the back, a cartoon police officer giving a very well endowed woman in a very, very tight dress, a ticket.  
  
Katherine Hart took it all in with grace. Of course, I knew the minute I was alone with her I would not be given the same gracious treatment. I could see the lecture brewing in her eyes as we sat in silence in the limo to the airport, I could feel the tension as she attempted to keep the conversation non-confrontational.  
  
I knew it wouldn't last.  
  
"...Alabama? Really, darling..."  
  
It took me the rest of the flight home to convince her that I wasn't sleeping with Wayne, nor was I seeing the 'the color blind fellow with the strange sense of humor'. Thank god the doctor told her that I needed to stay calm and keep speech to a minimum or I am sure things would have escalated to the point where I would have gladly jumped out of the plane...parachute or not.  
  
'My delicate condition' probably also explains why, for the most part, I have been treated quite pleasantly this whole week. I have been wined and dined, sent shopping, visited the spa, gone to the theatre...and been able to catch up with some old friends. It was so nice that I almost let my guard down...almost. I am a Hart after all. I know all the tricks...and this one was as transparent as the scope on my colt.  
  
My suspicions were confirmed when I walked into the salon and found two generations of Hart women sitting around the Louis XIV coffee table, calmly waiting for me to join them.  
  
Imagine, if you will...a room containing the likes of Alexander the Great, Napoleon, and Genghis Kahn...and you will have some inkling of what it is like to watch the female Harts interact. Which one am I? I suppose Napoleon...exiled from power and destined to die without ever revisiting the glory of my youth. Wasn't he poisoned on Elba? I should start checking my tea for unusual residue...  
  
Or perhaps it is more metaphorical in my case...that they are poisoning my mind rather than my body. I mean, all the money that was thrown at me this weekend can only mean one thing...they wanted me back and were pulling out all the stops in order to tempt me back into the fold.  
  
And what a temptation it is!  
  
Why?   
  
Why do people buy lottery tickets? Why does everyone dream of being rich...of living the high life. Because its fun that's why! You can't imagine the power it gives you, the sense of freedom. Nothing is out of your reach!   
  
To be honest, though...it's not all about the money. Being a Hart is a challenge, a constant struggle to remain on top. It's exhilarating...and as much as I rebelled against it I still yearn to be back in the game. Washington DC was just a taste...a wetting of the palette. My mind yearned to be put to the test again.  
  
It's in my blood.  
  
The Hart 'Coven', as my father used to call my Mother, Grandmother and Late Great Grandmother when they met for tea every week, are the epicenter of the family...all of them direct descendants of the Hart line. Those wives that married in were not included in the elite circle however sharp their minds or pedigreed their lineage, nor were their daughters.   
  
I am the last living direct female descendant...I was to be the youngest member of this little circle.  
  
They say behind every great man is a great woman. Although the extensive Hart business and financial holdings are run by the men of the family, it is the women who quietly steer the course from behind the scenes. Powerful, intelligent, sly and downright ruthless, the Hart daughters subtly guided the hands of their husbands and brothers from generation to generation. When it became socially acceptable for women to work and pursue a career...my mother was the first to enter the executive offices and boardrooms to play directly with the big boys, and took the company straight to the top.   
  
I have two Uncles...John and Edward...both successful in their own right...both superb businessmen and politicians...and BOTH seek my mother out before moving on any big decision. This is not done out of fear or historical precedent...but out of respect. For all her faults, my mother is a very successful and skilled player...as was her mother and her mother's mother and so on and so forth...back as many generations as I can remember.  
  
...and my grandmother tells me I have it in me to outshine them all.  
  
My generation has proven to be a disappointment to the family for the most part. My cousin Matt is the only one that went into the business, while his brother Peter decided on a career in medicine. Cousin Mark is a successful entertainment lawyer in LA, leaving Hart Co and his father after having worked for the corporation from the time he was teenager. They had such high hopes for him after he graduated from Harvard...but he chose a different calling. Of course, all these careers were 'socially' and 'financially' acceptable so their choices were acknowledged without much of a fuss.  
  
Ed Junior is another story altogether...spoiled and ill tempered he became the poster boy for rich disenchanted youth. Last I heard Uncle Edward had him in rehab again...this time for Heroine.   
  
Funny...they didn't disinherit him! No...army girl here is considered to be the blackest of the black sheep in this family!  
  
The more I think about it, the more certain I am that they are trying to pull me back in. How else would you explain the strange conversation I just had.  
  
"We understand your tour will be up soon. I was wondering if you had any plans..."  
  
"I suppose I..."  
  
"Sit up straight, dear...a lady never slouches, it's very unbecoming..."  
  
"As I was saying, I suppose if my present assignment is still available I will continue on indefinitely..."  
  
Silence.  
  
"...and this young man of yours....Dashiell is it? Are we going to meet him anytime soon?"  
  
"I thought you didn't approve."  
  
"Well, your grandmother and I have discussed it at length..."  
  
"I'm sure you have..." I muttered quietly into my tea, stopping as my grandmother fixed me with a glare.  
  
"...and having an officer in the family is not THAT much of a hardship. In fact, MANY of the prominent families have a Colonel or General in the pedigree. He has been invited to the White House after all...and a Rhodes Scholar..."   
  
I could have left the conversation at that. Honestly...I could have smiled and nodded politely and they would never be the wiser. Warrant Officer technically HAD the word 'officer' in it...and as brilliant as the two of them might be they would never figure it out until it was too late.   
  
I would like to think that they were trying to mend the rift that had formed between us, and I don't doubt that somewhere in the back of their minds this sincere motivation played a part. There is also no question in my mind that I miss my old life...this week has hammered home what a dyed in the wool snob I really am. Scarlett points it out all the time and I always flat out deny it, but truth is she is right. The clothes, the cars...the whole damn lifestyle...I love it!  
  
I also know enough to realize that nothing comes without a price. As much as I would love to regain access to the bank account and all the power that comes with the Hart name, the strings that come attached would end up choking me. It would be like selling my soul!   
  
Trade my independence for financial power? Throw away everything I have worked for? Everything I have accomplished? Give up Dashiell?  
  
Not in this lifetime!!!!! Nor in any other for that matter...  
  
I sat up straight and smiled my most pleasant smile.  
  
"He is not an Officer..."  
  
Both my mother and grandmother went rigid at exactly the same moment and stared at me with twin expressions of disgusted amazement...  
  
"Not...an...officer..." my mother whispered, pausing on every word as if trying to absorb some shocking news.  
  
"And he isn't from an East Coast family either...he's from Kansas..."  
  
"...Kansas..."  
  
Well...Rhodes Scholar was forgotten at that moment. I could just imagine the thoughts going through their heads as I sat in front of them smiling smugly. To them, Kansas meant bible-belt hick. And enlisted...oh boy! Hah... I should get Flint to come to the door in a pair of overalls and a rifle to greet the family with a 'Howdy, y'all'!   
  
The conversation went downhill from there.  
  
So now I find myself in my room alone, scribbling furiously in this Journal as I wait for Julian to pick me up and take me somewhere to clear my head. I don't know whether to be angry or sad. Sad, I guess.  
  
And it's not because of the opportunity I just threw away. I gave that all up long ago and while it's disappointing I am actually looking forward to returning to the life I have made for myself. What saddens me is that I was shot; that I nearly lost my life...and all my mother has done is play her games.   
  
I wish she loved me for who I was instead of who I 'should' be. I wish I had a mother who saw me as her daughter and not some powerful pawn she could use to her own ends. Does she even love me? Why didn't she come to hold me or comfort me as I struggled through the pain of my injury instead of using it and the fear and doubt that accompanied the accident to try and sway me back to the dark side? Why doesn't she ever tell me she is proud of what I have accomplished? Why?  
  
God I miss my father so much. I might as well be an orphan for all the Hart's care about me. Sure, my cousins and I get along well...but if push comes to shove they will tow the party line I am sure.  
  
My Aunt Sarah tells me that deep down inside my mother loves me...that she just doesn't know how to show it. Se wants the best for me and doesn't really understand the choices I have made as it goes completely against everything she has known her whole life.  
  
Did I hurt more than her pride when I left for Boot Camp? Somehow I doubt it...  
  
The funny thing is, the first night I was here I remember partially waking from a pain killer induced sleep to find her sitting on the edge of my bed, stroking my hair with tears in her eyes. I thought it was a dream at the time...the image was so foreign to me.  
  
Could it be that it wasn't a dream after all?  
  
I daren't even hope... 


	34. May 15th

May 15th ,  
  
Note to self...pizza at midnight is NOT a good idea...  
  
I am sitting up in bed, its...oh my god its 3:30 AM...and I can't for the life of me get to sleep. Its not that I am feeling particularly lively...I'm exhausted in fact...but a late night snack is doing cartwheels in my stomach and I can't seem to get comfortable.  
  
Log-boy, on the other hand, is out cold. Light sleeper my ass...the man could snore his way through machinegun fire! I am sorely tempted to wake him just so he can suffer along with me...I'm just not sure I can deal with the 'surly', overtired Flint that would certainly result from such an action. Yes he has stayed up with me when I have been ill or upset, sweet and supportive despite his fatigue...but this time I know all I am going to get is a gruff 'I told you so'.  
  
It had been a long hard day, capped off by a meeting with Hawk and Stalker that lasted well into the night. As a result, I missed lunch as well as dinner and decided to make my way to the kitchen to scrape something together before I hit the sack.  
  
There is always someone in the mess after hours...whether grabbing a midnight snack or just hanging out. Over time it has become one of the more popular social spots in the PITT next to the recreation level. The food isn't great, but every so often Roadblock or Gung Ho take over the kitchen and throw something really amazing together...and late at night it is a nice, quiet place to chat.  
  
As expected, I wasn't the only one whose stomach was rumbling. Clutch and Shipwreck were leaning against the counter, eyeing Cover Girl as she rummaged through the super sized refrigerator. Leave it to Courtney to have the two biggest womanizers on the base chasing after her. I don't know how she stands it!   
  
Shipwreck is a noisy, bad tempered sailor with an eye for the ladies. I once commented that if GIJOE ever disbanded he needn't worry about finding work...he is a shoe-in for the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disney! He even comes complete with a foul-mouthed parrot! Needless to say, Hector did not take kindly to this little observation, although it did manage to put a stop to his very blatant advances for a short while...  
  
...Flint nearly breaking his jaw ended that for good.   
  
A fierce fighter on the field, Shipwreck is hard to control and tends to make rash decisions without bothering to inform his superiors... a trait that has had him butting heads with the brass on more than one occasion. That said, any Joe who has worked with him would tell you he never lets you down in a fight. He is also the kind of guy you want around when you go out on the town...the life of the party...at least when he doesn't go overboard with the booze, which is often. I can't tell you how many times Wetsuit and Torpedo have had to carry him back to base after a particularly wild night.  
  
Despite his volatile nature, I have a soft spot for the crusty old sailor. His heart is in the right place, and he never fails to put a smile on my face. Clutch, on the other hand, is one of the very few people in GIJOE that I cannot stand. I admire his abilities as a soldier, and I respect the fact that he is one of the original members of the team...but other than that I have no patience for him. He is the EPITOME of the male chauvinist pig, and I am surprised he hasn't yet been brought up on charges of sexual harassment.  
  
You think I am being hypocritical, don't you? Sure, I thought Flint was just as bad when we first met, and you could say that, if anything, my relationship with him should have taught me NOT to judge a book by its cover. Problem is, I did attempt to get to know Lance better those first few months, and let me tell you if there IS a 'poet' hiding behind the attitude, it is buried so deep that it might as well not exist.  
  
I will add that the feeling of loathing is pretty much mutual. He calls me the Ice Queen...and Lady Attitude...as well as some other choice names not fit for polite company. He did hit on me the first couple of days I was on the team but that ended quickly enough. All I needed to do was open my mouth and engage him in serious conversation and he was off running for the exit. Lance is the type of man who is intimidated by intelligent women...he likes them bubbly and beautiful. Not that Courtney is 'bubbly' by any stretch of the imagination...but lets face it...she is a super model with an obsession with cars. Clutch probably thought he had died and gone to heaven when he first saw her working on the Wolverine in the motor pool.   
  
Courtney has him on a tight leash...this after years of beating him into submission. He acts up around her every so often but she knows exactly how to handle his type. She has been handling men like him all her life! I don't know how she does it...I think every man on the team has hit on her at one time or another...even Flint. I don't know what he was thinking. Ok...I know what he was thinking...and it had nothing at all to do with a long-term relationship. As arrogant and 'god's gift to women' as he can be, Flint is the type who needs...craves...an intelligent partner, someone he can match wits with. He would quickly grow bored with anything less, no matter what their cup size.   
  
Courtney would have been a fling for sure.  
  
Listen to me!!! Am I really still jealous of what 'almost' went down way back before Dash and I were even CIVIL to each other? Am I so envious of her beauty? Am I really that catty? Courtney is my FRIEND! So she isn't 'Ivy League'...so what? She is one of the strongest, most down to earth people I have ever met.  
  
She has sworn she would never pursue a relationship with anyone she works with and so far she has stuck to her guns. You have to admire that about her. She also keeps her personal life to herself. We are close and even I don't know if she has a boyfriend back home or not!   
  
In any case, I hung around with them for a little while...chatting with Hector and Courtney while ignoring Clutch as much as possible. Alpine and Bazooka made an appearance at one point, as well as Tripwire...and before I knew it the clock had hit midnight and I was still nibbling on the leftovers from Gung Ho's Creole Pizza night.   
  
Spicy hot...but DELICIOUS...  
  
Flint came looking for me soon a couple of minutes after twelve and shook his head in exasperation.  
  
"You are going to be up all night if you eat anymore of the that, Lady Jaye..."  
  
"...I'm hungry, and there is nothing else in the kitchen..." I said as I pointed to a room FULL of food...all of which needed to be cooked or prepared in some way.  
  
He flashed me a lopsided grin as he grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge.  
  
"You know...you are going to have to learn to cook one of these days..."  
  
"I CAN cook...I'm just 'uninspired' at the moment."  
  
"Uninspired?"  
  
I nodded as I took another bite of my meal, ignoring his laughter.  
  
"Well...if the kickback from that Cajun pizza sauce doesn't 'inspire' you...I don't know what will...come on, I'll walk you back to your room."  
  
'Walk' me to my room. Even after all this time we still try to keep up appearances as much as possible, avoiding public displays of affection or any overt gestures of couple hood. It's not that the others don't know about us...you would have to have been posted to Antarctica for the past 4 or 5 years NOT to...as I have mentioned before, Flint has gone to irritatingly great lengths to mark 'his territory'. Nonetheless, he IS a high-ranking member of the team and must therefore maintain some semblance of discipline and normalcy.   
  
Of course, it is a rare night that we do not share a bed when we finally find ourselves on base at the same time.  
  
Oooooo...my stomach.   
  
Christ, I haven't felt this terrible since early last month. Have you ever stopped jogging or going to the gym for any length of time and then tried to start up again? It's TOUGH...more a mental struggle than a physical one. That said, my injured lungs and ribs made the 'physical' aspect all the more challenging, as did Beachhead. The man is INSANE with a capital 'I'.  
  
He gets results though...I am back in fine form and ready for action after only two short months. Not that I have seen any action. The only battle I have engaged in recently is with the huge pile of paperwork on my desk, and the constant struggle to keep Hawk informed of current events and advise him on appropriate courses of action.  
  
Take this evening, for instance. I was called in to his office on very short notice to give him a situational analysis and political overview of a little country known as Wolkekuckland. It seems that our old 'friend' General Liederkranz is in need of assistance yet again.  
  
I still remember the undercover operation that took place a few years ago in this backwater military dictatorship that neighbors Darklonia. It was one of the very few missions that saw me teamed with Flint, Scarlett and Snake Eyes...more of a big, fat double date than a reconnaissance!  
  
We were tasked with uncovering how weapons smugglers had managed to move tons of equipment in and out of Darklonia without triggering the radar and early warning systems. Hawk and his team, in the meantime, were overseeing maneuvers along the border in the hope of training the local army to a point where they no longer needed aid to defend themselves against Darklon and COBRA. The fact that they would be purchasing some of our equipment was considered a major plus, especially for the defense contractors who supply our weapons.  
  
Red is almost as experienced as I at undercover work, and Snake Eyes is so quiet and unobtrusive that he needn't even conceal himself. He could be standing right next to you and you would never notice! It's a creepy little ninja trick of his, very useful for ancient martial arts assassins...equally useful for Covert Ops.  
  
Flint, on the other hand, well...he is a little harder to disguise. Not much of an actor, and always quite the 'presence' in a room...we decided that instead of making the difficult and ultimately unsuccessful attempt to get him into character and keep him there, we would use what he already had to our advantage.  
  
If there is anything Flint can do and do well...it was play a loud, obnoxious, self-righteous, arrogant, belligerent American tourist. All we needed to do was follow his lead and play along.  
  
We spent a day or two driving around in a flashy American sports car, upsetting the sensibilities of small town Europeans everywhere we went. Flint played his part to a tee, and was having a great time despite the fact that he was less than pleased about the transportation we had been provided.   
  
"A Camaro...you have GOT to be kidding me..."  
  
"It's a car Flint...a red sports car with a big engine...just like yours" I sighed as I walked over to the passenger side. He glared at me from across the hood while Scarlett tried to stop herself from laughing.  
  
"It is NOT like my car AT ALL..."  
  
"Is it better?" Shana asked innocently as Snakes pretended to inspect the tires. I could feel him smiling underneath the mask.  
  
"Don't you start with me, Red...you know full well that this piece of junk couldn't hold a candle to..."  
  
"Ok, ok...enough, Dash..." I snapped, nipping this little scene in the bud, "...just swallow your pride and get in the damn car. We have work to do."  
  
He sulked for a good half hour after that...taking his frustration out on the border guard when we reached the station between the two countries. Obnoxious American indeed!   
  
In fact, he played the role so well that I was beginning to wonder if I should tell him to tone it down lest he bring us under suspicion. I needn't have worried; apparently he was precisely what the locals expected of a US tourist, and they paid us no mind except for a dirty look now and again.  
  
It didn't take us long to discover the cause of the mysterious weapons trade going across the well-manned border. After an armed confrontation with some smugglers at a local café, we kidnapped and threatened two of them (I don't know who terrified them more...Snake Eyes unmasked or Flint uncouth) until they revealed their secret.   
  
A tunnel? Thermal baffles? Radar reflective paint?  
  
Nope. Good old-fashioned bribery was the key to the whole operation. The two goons took us out to an early warning system outpost operated by a man named Wolfgang. If you paid him enough, he cut off the system for ten minutes.   
  
It was as simple as that. Mind you, it was at precisely this point that our mission became a lot more complicated...  
  
...Complicated as in being spotted by an entire COBRA convoy, at the helm of which were Cobra Commander, Darklon, Dr Mindbender and the Baroness.  
  
COBRA STUNS vs The Camaro. It doesn't take a military genius to deduce the outcome of that confrontation!   
  
"Did you see that? The Commander and Darklorn together!" Flint exclaimed incredulously while attempting to reload his rifle. "Fuck...everybody smile and wave! Don't make any sudden moves and keep going!"  
  
"The Baroness is with them too..." Scarlett observed, Snakes signing away while she translated "...that means Destro can't be too far away!"  
  
I merely shook my head, trying to piece everything together while attempting to maneuver the car through rough terrain in the dark.  
  
"What are they doing here? How did they know the early warning system was going to be turned off?  
  
"And why would Darklorn be making a raid on Wolkekuckland?" Flint added.  
  
"...More than that, why would he be taking Cobra Commander and Destro's main squeeze along for the ride?" Red and he looked at each other for a moment, trying to piece together the mystery before they were jarred from their thoughts when I rammed the car headlong into a COBRA STUN.   
  
Hell...it didn't matter that the damn thing didn't have its lights on! I was STILL teased for DAYS afterwards about my driving skills.  
  
But I digress...  
  
Thank god Hawk was nearby or we would have been in a bit of trouble. Apparently, he and Roadblock saw our car on the reactivated radar screen in Wolfgang's station and set out to help us out...AFTER routing the rest of Darklon's forces.   
  
Victory was ours!  
  
Unfortunately, the mission ended with a failing grade. Liederkranz was so impressed by the 'apparent' ability of the Pythonized COBRA products to evade radar and thermal detectors that he decided to order some from Darklon on the spot.   
  
MARS 1, GIJOE 0.  
  
"I keep forgetting that the type of people who want to run things never changes." Flint growled as he watched the two men shake hands.   
  
Was he ever pissed off! Mind you, we were all feeling a bit angry, so much so that Red suggested we all relax at a local bar before 'someone' end up causing an international incident. Flint looked about ready to kill Liederkrandz with his bare hands...  
  
The rest of the evening was a blast, and a memorable one too...for that was the night Shana and I drank Flint under the table!   
  
Mind you, both Red and myself were a little worse for wear when Snakes finally drove us all back to camp...he never drinks...but poor Dash was worse than I have ever seen him. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry.  
  
Ok...I laughed...especially when he tried to salute Hawk and promptly fell over in a heap at his feet. Serves him right though! He should have known he couldn't possibly hold alcohol like a Scot and an Irishwoman. He should have given up while he could still stand. Male pride, however, prevented him from throwing in the towel.   
  
I am not a big drinker, although I do enjoy sharing a bottle of wine with dinner or occassionally ending the evening with a shot of good Scotch. I drink socially, and have been known to chug back a beer or three when the mood takes me. It loosens me up a bit, but I have to watch lest it break down my deepest inhibitions like it did that time in Scotland.  
  
Not that THAT particular incident was a bad thing...if it weren't for GUINESS I probably would never have gotten together with Flint. Christ, I practically threw myself at him...and the resulting encounter was wilder than anything I had ever experienced before in my life.   
  
No. THAT certainly wouldn't have happened had I been sober...and probably explains the glint in his eye whenever he watches me sipping a drink...the memories from that night still hot in both our minds after all this time.  
  
Flint also enjoys a beer with the guys, and will drink when he is off duty and out on the town. He has been drunk around me, but never so much that he has had to be carried home. Usually the buzz takes him in one of two directions...he either becomes even more of an arrogant, egotistical pain in the behind OR he gets very...ummm....'affectionate' with me.  
  
...Very, very 'affectionate'.   
  
It really is quite the experience. If you can get him with just the right amount of alcohol in his system he becomes something of a 'wild' Don Juan...and I have to say, early on in our relationship I really looked forward to the team's nights out. As I have mentioned before, sex with Dash is fantastic...sex with uninhibited Flint is an experience you will never forget.  
  
Its too bad he drank a little more than usual that night in Wockukerland or we might very well have had a repeat of the 'Kilt' incident. I knew he was far-gone when he began to recite to me in a deep, sensual voice...his breath hot against my skin as we rocked together on the dance floor.  
  
"I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair.  
Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets.  
Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day  
I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps.  
  
I hunger for your sleek laugh,  
your hands the color of a savage harvest,  
hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails,  
I want to eat your skin like a whole almond.  
  
I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body,  
the sovereign nose of your arrogant face,  
I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes,  
  
And I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight,  
hunting for you, for your hot heart,  
like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue."  
  
It was the first time he had ever 'gone poet' on me, and I was dumbfounded. I wish I could describe his voice when he reads or recites some romantic verse...but I don't think I can do it justice. The deep richness of it, the comforting rumble, the soft sensuality...it draws me in and holds me fast. I am a storyteller myself; I know the importance of tone and cadence, the difficulty in getting the words to come out just right.   
  
Dash does it naturally...but only with me.  
  
Only with me...  
  
He doesn't remember what happened that night in the bar. He was so drunk Snakes had to carry him to his tent and he remained out cold until Hawk woke us all the following morning. Shana and I got a lot of mileage out of that little hiccup...especially when he came to the briefing wearing sunglasses and wincing at every sound, every movement.   
  
No...he doesn't remember that night, and I haven't told him. I am not quite sure it actually happened as I was pretty far-gone myself at that point. In fact, it was such a very long time before I heard him recite again that I was beginning to think it was a flight of fancy on my part. Besides, I like to think of the poem after Sierra Gordo as the first, for that time the inspiration sprang from the heart and not the bottle.  
  
He reads to me often now...when the mood takes him...and his words never fail to strike a chord. Most of the time it happens when we are lying together in bed, sometimes after we make love, sometimes before...a deep and personal twist to his habit of quoting great works.  
  
Take the night I returned from Boston. I was sitting up in bed, exhausted but still tense from my time with the Harts...worried about everything and nothing and unable to relax...when I heard his voice.  
  
"Already, you are mine. Rest with your dream inside my dream.  
Love, grief, labour, must sleep now.  
Night revolves on invisible wheels  
and joined to me you are pure as sleeping amber."  
  
"Mmmm..." I sighed in contentment, my anxiety dissipating immediately as he pulled me down into his embrace, "...who's that by?"  
  
"Neruda..."  
  
"Oh...the man from Il Postino!" I smiled, recognizing the name immediately but knowing that to describe him so simply would get Dash irritated.  
  
"Allie...Pablo Neruda was one of the great poets of this century...he is hardly 'just' a character from some movie. Veinte poemas de amor y una cancion desesperada is one of the most famous collections of poetry ever written...not to mention his political activities in Chile during the 1940s were hist..."  
  
He is so cute when he lectures!  
  
Sigh*  
  
He is acting quite strangely of late...not strange 'bad', just...strange. Not himself. I know something is bothering him but he dismisses my worries whenever I ask. I would force the issue but the change in him is so subtle that it could easily be an illusion caused by my own neurosis rather than some deep and hidden anxiety on his part.  
  
Whatever it is, something isn't right. Maybe he's still sore about the whole Star Brigade debacle. Regardless of the fact he has absolutely no interest in becoming an astronaut, he was less than pleased when he failed to be selected for the team while Duke was not only chosen but made field commander. It didn't help that Roadblock was going along as well.  
  
Is it just me or is the rivalry between the Duke and Flint getting worse and not better?  
  
I have a meeting with the 'Golden Child' later this week. Maybe I will poke around and see what I come up with. Whatever is behind this quiet contention, it has to stop. The two of them are acting like a pair of three year olds. Ok, its mostly Flint acting like a three year old...but Conrad is far from innocent. He goads Dash terribly!  
  
In the meantime, I just looked over and saw one eye peeking up at me from the pillow. He's awake and looking none too pleased about it.  
  
Oh yes...there he goes...the 'I told you so...' lecture. At this point I will sit through ANYTHING if it results in him going to get me some Pepto-Bismal. Maybe if I moan in pain a bit I will get sympathy points. He is pretty easy to manipulate when it comes to...  
  
Oh...cool...that worked! He is off to pick up some stuff from the infirmary, running out in his sweatpants and dog tags as soon as he saw me clutch my stomach.   
  
I love that man! 


	35. May 30th

May 30th,  
  
"...because I was afraid, Alison!!!! You scared me!"  
  
You scared me.  
  
Not good enough, Dashiell...not an excuse. Not even close!   
  
I am still simmering even now, four hours after I stormed off the tarmac. I am as angry as I have ever been with him...angry as I have been in a long time. Angrier because I am not quite sure to whom I should be directing this rage, him or myself.  
  
Shana has left me alone to fester, knowing instinctively that I am not yet ready to talk. Personally, I think she is far too occupied with Snakes to give a damn about my problems. Granted, the poor man is in shock over Storm Shadow's defection to COBRA and needs her more than I.   
  
No matter. I don't really want her advice at this particular moment...I doubt I can handle the 'holier than thou' lecture certain to occur. She is far to quick to disparage my relationship with Flint...  
  
Flint....GRRRRRR....  
  
Taigh na galla do stalcaire! What was he thinking? What in the nine planes of hell possessed him?  
  
Wondering what's got my back up? Well, nothing much...just that I finally discovered why it is I hadn't seen any action since returning from sick leave!! I'll give you a hint ...he's about six foot tall, dark hair, wears a beret...  
  
Bloody HELL!  
  
I had just arrived at ops to pick up my orders when I overheard Flint speaking with Dialtone in the hallway.   
  
"Are you sure you got this right..." I heard him growl as I turned the corner. Flint hadn't noticed me, as he was too busy glowering over some paperwork.  
  
"Straight from the horse's mouth, fearless leader. Both you and Lady Jaye are off to Wolkekuckkuckland in about five hours. The particulars are all in there..."  
  
He shook his head in frustration.  
  
"...this can't be right. I told him she wasn't ready to go out yet. I told him specifically to keep her out of the line of fire until..."  
  
"YOU WHAT?!"  
  
They both swung around to face me, twin expressions of surprise turning to ones of fear when they caught my expression.  
  
"Ummmm...." Dialtone backed slowly away as if he was facing a venomous snake poised to strike, "...I just remembered something I needed to do in the control room."  
  
"Jaye..." Flint began as Jack took off down the corridor. I interrupted him before he could even start the thought.   
  
I was in no mood for excuses.  
  
"How DARE you!"  
  
"Allie, you weren't ready to go..." I didn't hear him.  
  
"How DARE you! You have no RIGHT to make those decisions for me. You have no RIGHT to meddle in my career, in my work..."  
  
"Calm down...I was just..."  
  
"You were just WHAT, Flint? Keeping me behind a desk for the past three months?" I snapped.  
  
"That's not exactly how it happ..."  
  
"Go gcreime galar tógálach do thóin bheagmhaitheasach!"  
  
He narrowed his eyes, annoyed that I was speaking a language he barely understood, but recognizing enough to tell it was hardly complimentary.  
  
"Don't you narrow your eyes at me, burraidh...ye had no right!" I struggled to suppress my accent, but it was coming out sharp and strong. The temper I inherited from the Burnett clan was switching into overdrive, taking control of my tongue...pushing back any sense of propriety and sense.   
  
"I DO have that right. It's my job! I make these types of decisions every day..."  
  
"Don't you go all 'commander' on me, Dashiell Faireborn. You know full well that this has nothing to do with our professional relationship..."  
  
"Not everything I do stems from 'us' you know, I do have a life outside our relationship." He growled, becoming steadily less guilty and more irritated as the argument went on.   
  
"So...then it's your "PROFESSIONAL' opinion that I am not cut out for the work?" I hissed.  
  
There was a crowd gathering around us now, attracted by the loud and angry pitch of our voices echoing down the corridors. Flint was becoming increasing aware of their scrutiny, flashing me a warning glance as he stood up straight and at attention.  
  
"It is my PROFESSIONAL opinion that you are WAY out of line, Master Corporal." He barked, grabbing me by the arm and yanking me towards an empty meeting room. He looked up and scowled at the Joes around us.   
  
"If the rest of you aren't busy, I am sure I can find something for you to do..." One look at his face and they all went running as he pulled me into the room and slammed the door behind us.  
  
"What the HELL were you thinking out there..." He gestured to the hallway, his voice barely level as he struggled to keep from shouting. I had no such qualms.  
  
"What the HELL were you thinking telling Hawk I wasn't ready to go out!!"  
  
"You weren't!"  
  
"I bloody well was and you know it! Beachhead gave me the ok. Lifeline gave me the ok. Are you telling me they don't know what they're doing?"  
  
"I'm not...I'm saying..."  
  
"Then you must be telling me that you don't think I am cut out for this work. That I am not good enough to fight alongside the others; Fight alongside you..."  
  
"I didn't say..." He clenched and unclenched his fists in an attempt to calm himself, but it was a losing battle. "YOU WEREN'T READY AND THAT'S FINAL!"  
  
"That's not what Duke thinks..."  
  
He froze at the sound of his friend's name, his eyes darkening menacingly. I flinched but plowed on with nary a pause.  
  
"...HE thinks I am worthy of consideration. HE values my skills and abilities...what I can bring to an operation..."  
  
"No..." he whispered, barely a hiss. Again I ignored him.  
  
"In fact, he told me before he left on the 'Defiant' that he's interested in having me on your little team..."  
  
"NO!" He shouted. Grabbing my arm. I pulled myself out of his grip and glared right back at him as he spluttered in anger.  
  
"No way. No way in HELL are you going 'Black'."  
  
"You have some nerve, Dashiell! This isn't your decision, it's mine."  
  
"Like hell it isn't! I won't have you..."  
  
"You, you, you...since when has it become all about you?!" I laughed but the sound held no humor, "This is MY life. MY choice. MY decision. I worked damn hard to get where I am today and there is NO WAY I am going to throw it all away because YOU don't think I can cut it."  
  
He stood there staring at me, his hands balled up into fists, his face contorted in barely suppressed fury, before turning on his heel and rushing out of the room.  
  
I suppose I should have followed him. I suppose I should have tried to wrap this up for better or for worse BEFORE we left on the mission. Unfortunately, I was waiting for him to come and apologize to me. HE was in the wrong, not I.  
  
I also wished him to suffer. I am not proud to admit this, but I was so angry that I went and cut my hair very short just to spite him. I know how much he likes it long...I had been growing in out for months...so I walked over to the base barber about two hours before the plane took off and practically buzzed it all off.   
  
It doesn't look bad.   
  
Of course, it doesn't look great either.  
  
I am such an idiot sometimes. Now I am going to have to suffer with it for the next few months until it fills out again. It will be even longer until I can style it.   
  
Sigh.   
  
Mind you, he got the point. When he saw me get on the plane he took one look and stomped away to sit with Bill and the other pilot for the rest of the flight.  
  
From there on in, things only got worse.  
  
We parachuted into the wilds of Wolkekuckkuckland in terse silence, quickly making contact with Stalker the moment we hit the ground. Flint's mood had worsened during the long flight, so much so that by the time we reached the campsite, he was grumbling quite heavily to Hawk and Stalker about the stupidity of the whole operation and the questionable morals of the men we were slated to help.  
  
Hawk is familiar with Flint's tendency to voice his opinion regardless rank or protocol...in fact he usually takes his third's thoughts quite seriously...but this time he was less than pleased, especially when General Liederkrantz overheard the Warrant Officer's commentary. Of course, Flint snapped at ME when I tried to warn him the subject of his little tirade was standing right behind him...serves him right!  
  
I wonder if Clay suspects that his prized Field Commander's mood was a direct result of a run-in with me? If so he hasn't said a word, although I am sure both of us are going to be chewed out for letting our personal life interfere with our work. Mind you, the General might very well have attributed any tension to the asteroid. One does tend to get a bit agitated when there is a hunk of rock the size of Alaska on a collision course with Earth. Not to mention we were about to be on the receiving end of an outright massacre...   
  
...COBRA was amassing Detonator tanks on the ridge above us and would cut through us like a hot knife through butter.   
  
No...thing's were hardly 'peachy'. I doubt Hawk would have noticed anything amiss between us in light of our worsening situation. He would also suppose that Flint and I would be able to put any differences aside until we were back on friendly soil.   
  
He would suppose...and he would be dead wrong!  
  
Dash was a complete bastard the whole bloody operation...ordering me about in a way that would have made Beachhead proud. He didn't take any guff and treated me as nothing more than some anonymous soldier...like a green ROOKIE!   
  
He was reckless...more reckless than usual at least. If it hadn't been for Snake Eyes we would both be dead right now. At one point, he ran us right into a COBRA listening station, surprising both the Vipers manning the post and ourselves. He didn't even hesitate...killing the first quickly and quietly, the murderous swipe of his blade a deadly reflex.   
  
It had been so long since we had been in battle together. I forgotten what a superb soldier he was...what a ruthless warrior he could be.  
  
I subdued the other COBRA lackey, but hesitated before slitting his throat. He was unarmed...pleading for mercy...and some deeply ingrained sense of honor prevented me from making the kill.   
  
Flint was FURIOUS.  
  
"Finish him off. No prisoners!" he growled menacingly, "If you don't have it in you I will do it."  
  
"He is no longer a threat Flint," I ignored him and began to tie the Viper up. Christ, he was no more than a boy, "...and he might have some information we could use..."   
  
"I said KILL HIM!" he snapped.   
  
I swung around and faced him down.   
  
"He surrendered, " I hissed, "in case you have forgotten, there are rules of conduct even in war!"   
  
In response he angrily yanked the prisoner out of my reach. I thought would slit the kid's throat right then, but he merely glared at me angrily.  
  
"In the 'Black' there ARE no rules, ethics have no place were you want to go..." he spat.   
  
Before I could respond, he had turned and began making his way back to camp, dragging the COBRA soldier behind him.   
  
The rest of the mission was much the same, him barking orders...criticizing my every move like some hell spawned drill sergeant...while I tried desperately to reign in my temper.   
  
It was a losing battle.  
  
The final straw was when he lobbed Cobra Commander off the cliff. I just snapped! The man might be our mortal enemy but even he has rights as a prisoner of war under the tenets of the Geneva Convention! Moreover, he would have proved to be a valuable prisoner...and we lost him not because Flint was trying to get a brainwashed Storm Shadow off our tails as he claimed, but to prove some hair-brained, machismo point!  
  
I didn't speak to him for the remainder of the operation, smoldering in quite resentment, my face a petulant sulk the entire flight home. For his part, Flint did his best to remain professional in front of the others and went about his business as if nothing was amiss. Nevertheless, every so often I caught him turning to me and frowning. Whether is was a frown of irritation or guilt I am not sure...but I certainly returned every glance with a scowl of my own.  
  
When the plane touched down, he followed me onto the tarmac struggling to keep up as I rushed towards the base at breakneck speed despite the cumbersome gear hanging off my shoulder. He finally managed to catch me as I struggled with the door to my quarters.   
  
Damn Tollbooth, I thought he was going to fix the lock this week!  
  
"Allie! Alison...stop!"  
  
"I have nothing to say to you Flint..."  
  
"Come on Alison...you're acting like a child..."  
  
I swung around to face him, my eyes on fire.  
  
"I AM ACTING LIKE A CHILD! After all you've done..."  
  
"I have my reasons, Allie..."  
  
"I don't want to hear it!"  
  
"You don't understand...its" he was struggling now, searching for the words...frustrated that they weren't coming out. He is only like that when he is about to say something from the heart...but this time I didn't care.  
  
"Get out..." I was physically pushing him out of the room...  
  
"...I did it because I was afraid, Alison!!!! You scared me!"  
  
I didn't care.  
  
"Thoir do chasan leat!!!!!!!"  
  
With one final shove I drove him into the hall and slammed the door in his face.   
  
He didn't return.  
  
You have to understand, I worked hard to get where I am today. Even after the horror of basic training, even after it finally 'clicked' and my superiors began to take notice...every day in the army has been a struggle. Against the enemy, against the elements...against pain, exhaustion, frustration...against those who would rather face a court martial for harassment than see a woman succeed...against soldiers seeking 'revenge' after having had a women best them on the training field, and those seeking a little action from the single girl in cammies...but most of all it has been a struggle against myself and my own doubts and fears.  
  
None of it has been a cakewalk...NONE OF IT. Some days I get out of bed and wonder if I am going to make it through another day. How much longer my body will be able to handle the punishment. I have conquered my fear; I have done everything possible to make it out on top...yet it never gets any easier. The more you prove yourself, the more you achieve...the more they throw at you!  
  
In case you haven't guessed, I am not the most confident of soldiers. I am not like Gung Ho or Leatherneck, primed for battle, proud Marines afraid or no one and nothing. They go into battle KNOWING that they are superior...just point them in the right direction and they will fight like warriors of old...charging into battle with a smile on their lips and a battle cry ripping through their throats.  
  
No...I doubt. I will always doubt. I will always believe I am not good enough. That doesn't mean I will give up, though...it only means I have to try harder, fight harder to make sure I am right behind those two Jarheads as they rush headlong into the enemy.  
  
...But to hear Dashiell voice that he has reservations about my abilities as well, to know that despite all we have been through he still believes me incapable of holding my own in a firefight. To know he still feels a need to 'protect' me...it rankled more than you can possibly imaging...hitting every one of my insecurities...hitting home with such a force that I am still numb.  
  
What has me more riled, however, is that my I now question the 'righteousness' of my anger. Could it be that 'I' am in the wrong this time? Could it be that 'I' owe HIM an apology.  
  
Preposterous!  
  
Unfortunately, my Aunt Sarah doesn't think so.  
  
She called to check up on me about an hour ago and before she even had a chance to say 'hello' I began my rant...pouring out the litany of details as to my horrendous week at breakneck speed. I used to speak quickly as a child, and still remember my father laughing as I carried on excitedly about something or other...forgetting to breath in my eagerness to get the point across.  
  
When I finished, there was a long silence on the other end of the line before I heard an exasperated sigh.  
  
"Och...Alison..." I could just picture her smiling, shaking her head at me as she tut-tutted.  
  
"Och, Alison?!" I asked, incredulous..."Don't you mean Och, Dashiell?"  
  
"Well, lass...he isn't exactly coming up roses either. From what you have told me of him, though...I would think the reaction typical. I do, however, feel you owe him an apology."   
  
"You have got to be kidding me, Aunty Sarah!"   
  
Et tu Brute, I thought. Betrayed by my very own flesh and blood!  
  
"Don't sound so hurt, child. For goodness sake, have you ever known me to give you anything but sound advice even if it means disagreeing with you? I am certainly not going to start pulling my punches now! I have your best interests at heart...even if it doesn't always seem so..."  
  
"...but..."  
  
"No buts...just listen." she laughed, "How like your father you are...stubborn, proud fool of a man...and that temper! You come by it honestly."  
  
"First off, you should never have attacked him the way you did. You know better than to air your dirty laundry in public. You hurt his pride, Alison...and as far as women have come this century we still have to step delicately around this last male hubris. You should have held your tongue until you had some privacy, no matter how inane his decisions. He is your superior after all."  
  
"Why should I respect someone who abuses his position? He had no right to do what he did. He overstepped his bounds..."  
  
"Alison darling. I know you are strong and independent. I know how much you love what you do and how driven you are to succeed without anyone's help. They are wonderful traits and have taken you far. There are times, however, were it can become a leash...a chain around your neck...holding you back."  
  
"You want this man in your life. You want him to share with you, open up to you, be with you...and he has, or has at least begun to do so. Now YOU have to let him in as well. He DOES have every right to input on your career...on what you choose to do with your life."  
  
"Alison...I said LISTEN...I am not finished!" she snapped gently as I attempted to interrupt with my very strong opposition.  
  
"I never said he went about doing so in a proper manner, but you have to look at what drives the man. I certainly understand him well enough...if I was in his position I would do my best to keep you out of harm's way as well...not because I think any less of you, but because I think the world of you. I love you and don't want to see you hurt. When I heard about your injury, when I saw the footage on the BBC...my heart nearly stopped. You scared me as well mo leanabh. The thought that I could have lost you...you are like my own daughter..."  
  
I heard her voice break slightly, unsteady as she remembered the incident a few months back...and felt my own heart flutter in response. She had wanted to fly into Boston to be with me but I had convinced her and the family to stay in Scotland. I was fine and did not want them worrying.  
  
I wish I hadn't though...I wish she had come.  
  
"He loves you, Allie...we all love you. We don't want to loose you. I sometimes wish you would just go back to acting, go back to school, even into the Hart family business...anything to get you away from the battlefield you call work...I know you love it and I know I cannot stop you. But that is not going to stop me from trying."  
  
"I scared him..." I whispered, repeating the words that he had said to me as I shoved him out the door.  
  
"Yes you did. You scared all of us...  
  
There was a pause in the conversation as we both attempted to absorb the words. My hand went to my shoulder in an unconscious gesture...touching the place where a bullet had ripped through my flesh years ago, feeling the scar that remained...a reminder of my mortality.  
  
I knew Dashiell had been affected by what went down in Iowa, but I hadn't fully realized how deeply it had cut until then. He had been in hysterics (at least hysterics for Flint) when he arrived at the hospital, but had managed to compose himself well enough that I dismissed it from my mind. I now understand that, as per usual, Flint had not dealt with it but merely internalized his worries.  
  
He is frightened by loss and that fear colors all he does. He grew up in a household haunted by it...raised by a father scarred by the loss of a brother...living with a family forever changed by the death of a son. Dash lost his first wife to treachery...he has lost friends during his time in the military...I cannot begin to imagine what he must feel at the thought of losing me...what demons were brought forth when he saw me fall in a hail of gunfire.  
  
In my heart I know should something happen to me Dashiell would be devastated. I don't mean to sound conceited in any way, I am just stating fact. I know him, and I know if I were killed it would destroy him. He is a man who does nothing half way. Everything is done with a passion that precludes all else...be it his craze for literature, his ferocity in battle, his dedication to the GIJOE team, his deep loyalty to his friends and, as I am beginning to understand, his love for me.   
  
That kind of intensity comes with a price.  
  
Would he recover? He did when Karen left him...but she was not ripped from him by death...and even then it took almost a decade for him to heal. Would he eventually bounce back if I were to die? Would he find someone else and start a family? Would he go on with his life?  
  
Or would he withdraw...would he hit the bottle...would he give up and succumb to depression?   
  
I suspect the latter.  
  
He is a strong man, tough and proud...but there are days when I truly see that I am the stronger...that he leans on me for support more than I on him. I would never suggest this to him, nor would I mention my belief to anyone. As my aunt says, he is a proud man and probably doesn't even realize he does, much less admit to it.  
  
I do not think about losing him. The thought never enters my mind, whether as a defense mechanism to keep me from being paralyzed by worry every time he is called out to defend our nation's freedom. He seems so solid to me, larger than life, impervious to injury regardless of the scars that he carries so proudly.   
  
...and yet, deep inside he is so very vulnerable.  
  
What would I do if he didn't come back to me? I honestly don't know. It would certainly rip out part of my soul; change me in some fundamental way that I would never be the same person ever again. Yet I think I might be able to move on eventually...as I did when I left my mother, as I did when I lost my father...as I did with Shawn.  
  
And yet with Dash everything is different. Am I really that strong?  
  
Before she got off the phone, my Aunt had asked me what I planned to do. She still has no idea what my job actually is, nor does she have a clue as to the danger involved in the offer Conrad had given me earlier. Nevertheless, she has a sharp mind and has probably put two and two together.   
  
What do I plan on doing with Duke's proposition?  
  
I don't know.  
  
What do I really know about his little operation? Marvin, Dash, Conrad...they never speak of it. Do I really want to find out what could possibly be so bad as to necessitate this silence? Do I really want to know what it could be that would give a soldier like Flint nightmares?  
  
Is this really the kind of challenge I want to undertake? What is it I want to prove to the world...to myself...that I haven't already accomplished here with GIJOE? Is 'Black Ops' the next step for me? I admit I am curious, but at the same time hesitant...  
  
"Good..." she exhaled in relief as I voiced my indecision, "...good. I was worried you had gone an accepted just to spite him. You tend to do that, I know you...like the time you were so angry at your father for leaving you behind in Scotland when he went abroad that you tried to convert to Hinduism."  
  
"I had forgotten about that. Poor Father Mackenzie was beside himself...I thought he was going to have a stroke right there when I walked into Church carrying a statuette of Shiva!" I closed my eyes and tried not to laugh, "No, I didn't jump on the offer just to get back at him...although I considered it. I...ummm...cut all my hair off instead."  
  
She laughed.  
  
"Some things never change. I hope this man of yours knows what he is getting into."  
  
"Not really...I like to keep him on his toes."  
  
She paused in thought before continuing.  
  
"I know I haven't met him yet, but this man is good for you mo leanabh. You mustn't be so hard on him. You must learn to let him into your life, as you demand he let you into his. A relationship is a partnership; you would do well to remember that. As my mother used to tell me, love is not a noun. Love is a verb."  
  
With that last piece of advice our conversation ended, and now, hours later, I am still sitting up in my bed...mulling over her words and trying to rein in my anger.   
  
Could she be right? Could I be as guilty of wrongdoing as he? Do I owe him an apology after the shit he put me through this week?   
  
Sigh*  
  
I guess both of us are a little too proud for our own good! 


	36. June 26th

June 26th,  
  
I am presently hiding out in one of the hangars on the surface above the PITT. It's quiet up here...empty save for the occasional lizard sprinting across the floor. The little guys love it in here, using it as a shelter to escape the heat of the day...and Steeler and his crew treat the biggest of them as quasi-pets and mascots, much to Cover Girl's chagrin. For all the tomboy toughness, she isn't too fond of the small and scaly! When she sees them she screams like a...well...like a girl!  
  
No one is around, and I am grateful for the privacy. I need to be left to myself now. I need some time to think...I need....  
  
God...don't cry. Stop it...stop it, you weakling! Get hold of yourself...  
  
I am in the far corner where no one can see me, sitting by my car...staring at everything and nothing. I had pulled the tarp off and was busily packing up the trunk before giving up in disgust. Who would have known one person could accumulate so much...so much STUFF...in 7 years? I suppose I should be thankful that I have no furniture to carry off...but even so, there is NO WAY all of it is going to fit into this little car.  
  
Why didn't I buy a bloody sport utility like a normal person! A 4 Runner or a Range Rover...an Explorer like Roadblock's...  
  
Oh Christ...here come the waterworks! Get hold of yourself!!!!  
  
My books are randomly strewn across the floor, looking battered and forlorn where they crashed to the ground after I threw a box of them across the room in frustration. In fact, I am still rooted to the spot where I crumbled in heap...too tired to move...too miserable to care. I don't know how long I have been on this cold, hard floor; time has ceased to have any meaning...and it's only by some fluke that my journal ended up landing close to my feet.  
  
I can't seem to stop staring at the RAM parked right across from me, the sleek silver motorcycle drawing my eyes as it draws out my memories.   
  
I love that thing! I had never ridden a motorbike until I came here, my cousin Peter having put the fear of God in me over what he calls 'organ donation on wheels'. I suppose he has seen some awful cases come through the emergency involving these machines, but then again I have probably seen worse on the battlefield.   
  
I love the power, the freedom...the sight of the road passing underneath me, the feel of the wind whipping through my hair...I would choose it over a Hummer any day!  
  
That bike and I have been through so much together. I still remember the time I was put in charge of running potential Joes through their paces. It was my first command responsibility with the team... earned from my performance during the raid on Staten Island that left me with a bullet through the shoulder and the respect of my teammates.  
  
The training mission ended up being played out against a live enemy, as Dr. Mindbender and Destro attacked us just as we were wrapping things up. It was like something out of a bad B-Movie...trapped in a junkyard with mutant spores and robot soldiers assailing us at every turn! To add insult to injury, COBRA deprived us of our weapons...leaving us as helpless as white lab rats in a maze.  
  
These mice, however, had teeth!  
  
Speeding through the obstacles on the RAM was both frightening and exhilarating. You are so exposed and yet feel untouchable. It is as if you are one with the wind...too fast for your enemy to see you, too agile for them to get a clear shot when they do.   
  
Despite our obvious disadvantage, we ended up sending the enemy running with their tails between their legs. Of course, my 'trainees' ended up passing with flying colors, as to be expected in those days from potential Joes. Those star recruits were Bazooka, Crank Case, Heavy Metal and Airtight!   
  
Can you believe it! That was how long ago? 6 years? It feels like only yesterday!  
  
How could the time have passed so quickly?  
  
And now it's over...the best and most rewarding years of my life gone in the blink of an eye. All my hard work and sacrifice erased from the history books once and for all. My 'family' away from home shattered to pieces by nothing more than a careless swipe of a politician's pen.  
  
GIJOE is no more.  
  
The flag was retired just a few hours ago in a solemn ceremony just outside this very building. In fact, if I peek out I can see the pole where the red, white and blue once flew proudly now standing desolate and bare against the desert sky.  
  
We are all still in shock. God, it was all so sudden! One day we are going about our business, fighting to rid the world of COBRA, defend human freedom and democracy, yada, yada, yada...and the next the entire organization is mothballed. No explanation, no excuse...  
  
...No closure.  
  
I always thought GIJOE would go out with a bang...a huge battle with the enemy that sees us victorious and COBRA left a smoking ruin. Not this...this...travesty of justice! The battle is far from over...why sound the retreat?  
  
Why?  
  
Everyone has been thrown for a loop since the announcement last week, all of us walking around the PIT in silence as we absorbed the implications of this new reality. As is to be expected, the old guard is taking it the hardest...having dedicated a decade to a cause that is now considered obsolete. Where do you go after this? What do you do with yourself?  
  
I have spent the past 48 hours completing paperwork and helping Hawk see his men set and stable once we close the doors for good. A surprising number of them are leaving the military all together...seeing this as an opportunity to pursue other avenues in their lives without constantly looking back to regret what they gave up. How can you look back and wonder if there is nothing to return too?   
  
Many more are just burnt out...depressed. Psych-Out has had his hands full since the announcement. All that hard work, all those lives lost...and for what?  
  
For nothing.  
  
There is tension in the air, and tempers are frayed. Even Bazooka...gentle, sweet, quiet Dave...snarled at me as we sat chatting in the mess hall late one night.  
  
"What are you so down about? You don't have to worry about anything...your ass will always land on a feather pillow..."  
  
I didn't answer him...I didn't snap back as I am wont to do when someone brings up my financial and class background. I suppose I was a little taken aback, as were the others at the table...although no one chose to defend me. I couldn't think of anything to say, really...he was right. I have a gold plated parachute...the same cannot be said of the others.  
  
...and yet at the moment I am suffering more than most. I must seem like such a phony.   
  
'Look at Jaye...the Hart heiress...what does she have to be so upset over? What does she have to worry about? Her mommy will take care of her!'   
  
When I walked in those big base doors so many years ago, I knew my life was going to change forever...for better or for worse...but nothing in the world could have prepared me for the all-encompassing role GIJOE has played in my life and my development as a human being. Nothing could ever possibly match the positive influence this organization, these people, have had on my life.  
  
Although I came through those doors with Ripcord by my side...for all intents and purposes I came in alone. I came in alone but for the next 7 years I would never be so again. The Joes became my family...I was part of something bigger than myself...bigger than the Harts...and more important than any fancy degree, Oscar nomination or multi billion-dollar company can ever hope to be.  
  
I came here alone...  
  
...and I am leaving alone.  
  
It's over...I can't believe it.  
  
It's really over.  
  
...I don't know what is hurting me more, the dissolution of GIJOE or that my relationship with Flint has ended.  
  
I am not going to give him a chance to break up with me formally. If I hear the words 'we have to talk' coming out of his mouth I just know I will loose it. No...I am just going to go, leave while I can still get out of here with my dignity intact.   
  
But to where?   
  
Where am I going to go...what am I going to do?   
  
I never really gave any thought as to what would happen after I was spit back out into the world. I guess I always figured that 'Joe' would be around until I was ready to retire, or if anything I would have some time to make the choices at my own pace...not have the decision forced upon me by Washington.  
  
I guess I always assumed that I would be leaving here with Dashiell...but it seems he had other ideas. God, what a fool I have been! What a complete and utter fool! And its not like I hadn't been warned; Shana always told me not to count on him...that my relationship with Flint was unstable at its best and unhealthy at its worst.  
  
I overheard her talking with Snakes and Jinx the other day on their plans for the future. They are not cruel people...they are my friends...but sometimes it still comes as a shock to hear what others REALLY think, what they say when you are not around.  
  
"So you and Snakes are going to head up to his cabin?" Jinx asked. I heard the sound of the fridge opening and then the 'whomph' of bodies hitting the couch.  
  
"Yeah...although Hawk wants us to hold back for a bit after everyone leaves. You know...I was a bit peeved about that, weren't you, Snakes? I just want to start our new life together as soon as possible. Put all of this behind us and have some time to ourselves. Some time to heal."  
  
There was a pause...probably Snakes signing something...and then a laugh.  
  
"Yeah right, cousin..." Jinx giggled, "I am sure I will be flying back from Tokyo within a few months to attend the wedding. You are SOOOOO whipped! I just hope Allie schedules hers around the same time. Those airline tickets are expensive!"  
  
My ears perked up at my name and heard Red exhale sharply in a sound of mocking disbelief.  
  
"Don't hold your breath. I love Alison like a sister but she can be so naïve at times I just want to shake her..."  
  
'I don't understand...are they..."  
  
"No, not yet...but I hesitate to give them even a year once out in the real world. In fact, the way Flint has been avoiding her lately; I would put money on it being history by the time the gates close. I warned her..."  
  
Another pause.  
  
"'To understand the heart of a person, look not at what he has achieved, but at what he aspires to do'...what is that supposed to mean?"  
  
"Its Buddha," Jinx interjected, obviously with a mouth full of chips, "it means..."  
  
"I know what it means. Come on, love...look at them. They are hardly the type of couple who will last through the long haul no matter what they aspire to...not like us. We have fought hard for...Snakes?...Snake Eyes?...Where are you going?"   
  
There was a shuffling sound and then I heard the door slam.  
  
"Damn it!"  
  
"What's up his butt?"  
  
"Nice Jinx...very ladylike." I heard her sigh and get up, "He's been a little on edge lately...what with Storm Shadow and the disbandment...and then this 'mysterious' letter! I better go and find him."  
  
"I should go as well. I need to finalize my travel plans...thanks for the snack!"  
  
A couple of minutes later I was alone again, lost in thought.   
  
I don't know why it hit me so hard. I already knew what the others thought of my relationship. And its not like I was really expecting to get married...its not like I expected Dash to drop to one knee as the flag was lowered and flourish a big shiny diamond.  
  
Or did some deep, long buried part of my subconscious actually want a big, romantic proposal? It has been almost 5 years...  
  
Ridiculous...and not my style...but still...  
  
I can just hear my grandmother's voice.  
  
"You aren't getting any younger, Alison...Are you going to wait around forever, Alison...Honestly Alison, what did you expect of someone of his' background'...Well, dear, as I always said, why should he buy the cow if he is getting the milk for free..."  
  
Shut up, shut up, shut up...  
  
I don't know why I keep going over and over this in my head. It's all a moot point now. Dash has made it quite clear that all avenues are closed.   
  
"Married? Jaye and I? No way, Shipwreck my man...that's not in the cards..."  
  
Yes...you read that correctly. That is EXACTLY what he said. Word for word...I overheard him talking to Hector and the others a couple of days ago and haven't spoken to him since. Not hard to do...Shana was right...he HAS been avoiding me.  
  
I hadn't really thought much of his reticence lately until I heard Red mentioned it. I mean, we have all been pretty busy since the orders came through to disband...and to tell you the truth, last month's little blow out is still hanging over our heads.   
  
YES, I apologized...in my own way...but I suppose it wasn't enough to erase the damage, at least on my part. I still harbor a bit of resentment over what went down, regardless of any soothing words spoken between us. I am not proud of this little aspect of my personality, but I can and will hold a grudge...especially if I am subconsciously denying my own guilt.  
  
In any case, that little 'wedded bliss' tidbit isn't the only thing I heard. Did you know he signed up for another tour? He didn't even consult me, not even as an afterthought! In fact, the only reason I know about it at all is because I happened to be in the hallway outside the recreation room in time to overhear it being said to Shipwreck!  
  
SHIPWRECK!  
  
Damn him! He has some nerve making such an important decision without even asking what I wanted...AND all this after berating me for not seeking his advice on my potential career choices. What a hypocrite!   
  
Then again, why would he even bother to ask if he wasn't planning on building a life with me?  
  
I hate him, I hate him...I HATE HIM!  
  
Stop crying, you idiot...get up and pack the car.   
  
You will go to the goodbye-bash tonight. You will avoid all contact with the above-mentioned party. You will carry yourself with dignity and grace...and as soon as it is humanly possible you will wedge yourself into this overstuffed vehicle and get the hell out of here.  
  
You have done it before...you can do it again.   
  
You're a Hart, Damn it...act like one! 


	37. July 4th

July 4th,  
  
Finally, a moment to myself!  
  
I am lying on the bed in Dash's room, surrounded by boxes and duffle bags. In fact, I literally had to climb in here a moment ago...maneuvering around the obstacles as gracefully as I could holding my journal in one hand and a bowl of ice cream in the other.  
  
Chunky Monkey...mmmmm...Rose certainly knows how to stock a fridge!   
  
We have only been in Kansas for a few days, but they have been quite busy. The Colonel took Dash and I fly fishing early the first morning, and the rest of the day was spent lazing by the river or cleaning our catch. Rose and I went shopping the second day, concluding with a trip to the local market. She had decided it was high time I put down the rifle and pick up the spatula, much to her son's amusement. Needless to say the whole exercise was a complete disaster...although in the end I did manage to put together something remotely edible.   
  
Salad! Eat your heart out Jacques Pepin!  
  
This afternoon we are heading over to Aunt Betty's for a Fourth of July picnic. Apparently, her house is on a hill, providing an unobstructed view of the fireworks in town. I'm really looking forward to it, despite the fact that I am going to have to deal with Betty for the next several hours.   
  
Ah well...  
  
I actually have very little to complain about. The weather has been beautiful, and Dash's parents have been wonderful hosts. It's been nice to get to know them without the rest of the Faireborn zoo hanging about...too bad we have to leave tomorrow night.   
  
If you read my last entry, you're probably wondering how the hell I ended up in Kansas. No, it didn't involve a tornado or a pair of ruby slippers, but it's still quite the story...most of which involves me eating my hat! Sometimes I wonder at the depths of my own stupidity. I suppose I still have much to learn about relationships. My time with Shawn was wonderful if short lived...I was so very young, I really had no idea what I was doing...and my parent's parody of wedded bliss certainly didn't provide the most useful of models to work from.  
  
Anyhow, all this to say thank god for Dashiell. Who would have known that my egocentric, arrogant, commitment-phobe of a Warrant Officer would turn out to be the sensible one...the one who held it all together?  
  
Red hasn't a clue as to the man hiding under that beret. If she did she would never worry about my future with him. In fact, I think she might even grow slightly jealous! I know, I know...an awful thing to say about one of your best friends...but I often feel she is only critical of my relationship in order to deflect attention from her own.  
  
But I digress...   
  
I was still sitting on the floor of the hangar when he found me, waltzing in wearing his favorite black 'Oxford University' tee shirt, a pair of faded jeans, and an infuriating (at that point) lopsided grin on his face. I needn't mention that one look at me wiped the smile off his face fast enough.  
  
"There you are, Alison. Christ, I've been looking all over for you. Don't you listen to the PA system? Lowlight and Ripcord brought in some brew and I made sure they got you some Guinness, I know how much you hate all that Americ..." he had lifted his hand to show me the bottles, but paused as he saw me turn away and quickly resume packing the car.  
  
"What are you doing, Al? What's wrong? Have you been crying? Look at me Allie...LOOK AT ME!" I ignored the distress in his voice, the alarm in it as he became conscious of what I was doing.   
  
"You're packing...why are you packing? Allie! ALISON!"  
  
He grabbed my arm and tried to swing me round to face him but I fought him off.  
  
"Allie! Stop that...TALK TO ME!"   
  
"Leave me be, Flint...it's easier this way. No one gets hurt. Just go..." I whispered, my voice flat...emotionless.  
  
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT!?" He was in a panic now...the poor thing.   
  
Thinking back I realize what this little scene must have done to him, his biggest fears brought to life expertly by yours truly. Did I understand what I was doing when I played out this little drama? Was I deliberately trying to hurt him as I thought he was about to hurt me...getting in the first shot before he had a chance to bring me down? Were my motivations so Machiavellian? I wouldn't put it past me...Sierra Gordo certainly brought home the fact that the dark side of my nature sits dangerously close to the surface.  
  
"Go Flint..." My voice was so cold it caused a shiver to go up even my own spine.   
  
"NO! Not until you tell me..."  
  
"THAT'S NOT IN THE CARDS FLINT, NOW PLEASE LEAVE!" Tears were threatening to fall again, but I composed myself quickly...my mother's voice whispering in my ear, repeating the familiar Hart mantra.  
  
"Don't let them get to you...and if they do, don't ever let them know. Rage in private...but in public you must remain indifferent, cold even. Every shift of your eyes, every twitch of your mouth...every nuance of your voice must be kept under tight control. Even the smallest crack in your demeanor will give your foe the opening he needs to go in for the kill."  
  
Cold indifference as a means of defense...lovely, mother...you taught me well.  
  
"Not in the cards..." he mumbled to himself as his sharp mind began to work. It didn't take him long to put two and two together.  
  
"Oh shit...Alison. You didn't..."  
  
"GO!" I said, my voice cracking. Mother Hart would be horrified! "Please...just go. Report to your new post and leave me to my life..."  
  
The words had barely escaped my lips before he grabbed me again, harder this time.   
  
"No!" He hissed as I struggled against him, but this time I couldn't break his grip.   
  
"Let go of me Flint...I have already heard all of..."  
  
"You heard...YOU HEARD!!!" He roared, "Allie, don't take this the wrong way but SIT DOWN, SHUT UP and LISTEN TO ME! DON'T JUST 'HEAR'...LISTEN!"  
  
"What the HELL are you..."  
  
"I said BE QUIET!" He picked me up as if I weighed nothing, placing me gently on the hood of my car before he leaned forward and hissed in my ear. "For once in your life STOP TALKING and LISTEN TO ME."  
  
I was so stunned I didn't move even after he let go. I heard him mumble something along the lines of "...leave it to me to fall for bloody covert ops..." before settling down directly in front of me, matching me glare for glare.  
  
"First off, I admit...I did sign up for another tour...AH! AH! I said LISTEN...I wasn't keeping it a big secret...I was going to tell you, but both of us were swamped last week. At any rate, I figured it would be so obvious a choice as to need no clarification."  
  
"I am a soldier, Alison. I was born for this work and I am good at it. Hawk says I have a bright future with the Army and I don't doubt it. Already I am getting calls from people interested in having me join their units. Regardless of skill, though...I like it here. I love my job and god knows not many people can say that of their career choices."  
  
"My brothers, my father, his father before him...we all served our country. It is really the only life I know...there is nothing else I can imagine myself doing. You know me better than anyone...Can YOU see me in a suit, doing defense consulting for one of the big weapons contractors? Can you see me playing politics? Can you see me going 'spook'?" He spat out the last word, his eyes filled with contempt. I guess he found out about Duke's new career choice.  
  
"Besides..." he continued, his eyes softening, "...Call me old fashioned, but I have to be able to support us, support whatever...ummm...little 'surprises' who come to us in the future...I need to be able to build a home for us. This career will allow me to do that."  
  
I opened my mouth to say something (old fashioned indeed...I certainly didn't need to be supported...and there would certainly be no little 'surprises' if he wasn't interested in 'buying the cow') but before I could snap back I felt his finger against my lips.  
  
"Shhh, Allie. I'm not finished."  
  
"I know what you heard...I know what I told Shipwreck. Granted, it might not have been the most eloquent way of putting things, but leave it to you to overhear guys acting like...well...like guys."  
  
"No. Marriage is NOT in the cards for us...YET." He smiled as he saw the fire alight briefly in my eyes, "Look at us, Allie...look at our relationship. We have spent all of our time together living in this secret military organization...we have never known life as a couple in the real world. We have spent the past five years as Flint and Lady Jaye. Do we even know what it will be like out there as Allie and Dash? I know it sounds like a cop out, but Sweetheart...can you honestly tell me you were thinking of tying the knot BEFORE the sudden change in our lives...before you started hearing Red go on about her plans with Snakes?"  
  
"Look...I have been married before. I know what its like and god knows I rushed into that with my eyes wide shut..."  
  
"I'm not Kar..." I began, but he cut me off with an exasperated look. I rolled my eyes and sighed "...I know, I know...just listen..."  
  
Jeez...if I didn't know any better I would say that he and my Aunt Sarah were separated at birth.  
  
He smiled and continued.  
  
"As I was saying...I rushed into my first marriage without even thinking, and look what happened! There's going to be a lot of pressure on us during the next year as we try and settle into life after Joe. I have to get used to a new position and you don't even know what you are going to do with yourself yet. Not to mention that we are both going to have to move. It's a lot to handle by itself...to add a wedding to it...and damn it, Al, I have wasted most of our relationship walking around with my heads up my six...we just started to get it together...I...I want us to work...I NEED for us to work! I don't think I could take it if it didn't."  
  
"You have your doubts about us then..." I whispered. I didn't mean to say it aloud, but my brain was on overload and so it snuck easily past my 'filters'.  
  
"Alison...look at me." He gently placed his hand underneath my chin and brought my eyes up to meet his, "...I have no doubts about us, you have to believe that...." he paused and began to recite...   
  
"...seek not, sweet, the 'if' and 'why'  
I love you now until I die.  
For I must love because I live  
And life in me is what you give....no...NO"  
  
He got up so suddenly that I started, nearly unbalancing myself from the hood as he began to pace furiously around the room.  
  
"No...not this time...I have to say this in my own words..." In two long strides he was in front of me again, his hand taking mine.  
  
"Yes I worry, Allie. You are everything to me. Its gotten to the point where I can't remember a time when I wasn't with you...its gotten to where I cannot imagine a future without you. I know I haven't done anything to make you think otherwise...but you have to recognize that what I said that day to Shipwreck was completely misunderstood. You are my life...I...Damn it, why can't I say what's in my heart..."  
  
He turned then and grabbed a small package that had been placed, unnoticed, on the hood next to me. I must have really been in a state if that slipped by...he probably had it tucked under his arm when he came in. Mind you, he seemed a bit worried as he held the small box in his hands, I wonder if he had been trying to hide it while he decided whether or not to give it to me.   
  
I watched as he licked his lips and ran a hand through his hair before slowly, gently, handing it over.  
  
"Maybe this will show you what I can't seem to articulate..."  
  
I took it in my hands. It was a small, non-descript and lightweight. Not a ring, that was for certain...but something pretty special if the awkward, nervous look on Flint's face was any indication.   
  
Slowly, carefully I opened the package.  
  
Inside lay a small gold key chain with a familiar symbol embossed in careful detail on its face. A dagger, point up, on top of which lay a heraldic sun composed of four straight and four wavy alternating rays...all surmounted by a gold heraldic rose with petals of dark blue lapis.  
  
...the insignia of the Army's intelligence branch.  
  
"Dash...my god...its beautiful..." I whispered as I ran my fingers over the warm metal.   
  
"I thought you might like it...I had it custom made. Bloody jeweler took forever; I just went to pick it up early this morning, which is why it seemed as though I was avoiding you. I wanted it to be a surprise. Flip it over and look at the back..."  
  
I did as I was told and saw that it had been engraved in flowing script.  
  
"As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,  
So deep in luve am I  
And I will love thee still, my Dear,  
Till a' the seas gang dry"  
  
"Yeah...I knew you would recognize it..." He smiled as he saw my eyes light up at the familiar words "...it's Robbie Burns. " He took my hand, and in a less than perfect imitation of a Scots accent...began to recite the poem to me as I giggled over his antics.  
  
"O my luve's like a red, red rose.  
That's newly sprung in June;  
O my luve's like a melodie  
That's sweetly play'd in tune.  
  
As fair art thou, my bonnie lass,  
So deep in luve am I;  
And I will love thee still, my Dear,  
Till a' the seas gang dry.  
  
Till a' the seas gang dry, my Dear,  
And the rocks melt wi' the sun:  
I will luve thee still, my Dear,  
While the sands o'life shall run.  
  
And fare thee weel my only Luve!  
And fare thee weel a while!  
And I will come again, my Luve,  
Tho' it were ten thousand mile!"  
  
As he finished he brought up a hand and gently wiped a tear from my eye, while with his other he held up a newly cut key.  
  
"Here you go, my Bonnie Lass...let this be the first key to grace the chain." He smiled and nodded towards his COBRA parked just outside. "Just be careful with her, ok...she's my baby..."  
  
I was so astounded I could hardly speak. I just sat there, holding the key in my hand, while I tried to process all the implications that this simple gift represented. To an outsider...even to someone like Shana, who knows Dash well enough...the key chain would seem a poor substitute for an engagement ring. A cheap trinket meant to distract me from the 'real issues' surrounding our relationship.  
  
They would think that, and they would be wrong.  
  
I know Dashiell...I know he put a lot of thought into this. He isn't one who gives gifts often, but when he does it is done from the heart...even the smallest trinket holds subtle meaning if you take the time to look.  
  
He has made it clear why he didn't want to rush into marriage, but he also wanted to show how committed he was to our relationship despite this decision...how much he was willing to sacrifice in order to make it work.  
  
The words on the back of the key chain...the KEY TO HIS CAR, willingly given (even Karen wasn't allowed to touch the little red convertible)...those gestures are worth more than any diamond.  
  
"Come on, get up...you can take me to pick up the truck and trailer so we can start packing..." he looked around at the books scattered across the floor and the duffel bag sticking out the passenger side window at an odd angle "...properly. I would like to get out of here first thing tomorrow. My parents are expecting us and have graciously offered their place to store our gear until we get back..."   
  
I wanted to say something, tell him what I was feeling in my heart but for the first time in my life, words escaped me. Then, abruptly, what he had just said registered somewhere in that useless thing I like to call my brain.  
  
"Get back...?" I finally choked out the words.  
  
He laughed as he went into his back pocket and pulled out a rather large envelope. "Sorry...did I not mention we are headed to Europe? I asked for four weeks off before I give the brass my decision on where I want to be stationed. Our work with GIJOE has some perks it seems...I have a choice for once, and we will make it together while we travel. In any case, it'll give us some time to wind down...have some fun...not to mention your Aunt is expecting us..."  
  
"Sarah!?"  
  
"Yeah...she was excited to hear that we were headed her way. Nice woman...very enthusiastic. We are due in Scotland, then England to visit some old Oxford chums of mine...college reunion and all...then off to Spain for some well deserved R 'n' R."  
  
"SPAIN!!??"  
  
"Jeez, Allie...I thought you were a linguistics major...have you forgotten how to form a sentence?" He flashed me a lopsided grin as he pulled me to my feet, grabbing his beer at the same time, "...Yes, Spain. Its one of the few countries neither of us have ever seen. Think of it as a place where we can start building some memories together...no history, no GIJOE, just us. The car is rented and we have reservations at...hey!"  
  
His words were cut short as I launched myself into his arms.  
  
"I love you, Dashiell Faireborn..."  
  
"Whoa...watch the drink, honey!" He smiled as he embraced me, lifting his beer out of harms way, "Damn it, you terrified me for a moment there. The very idea of leaving here without you... I love you...I don't know how you could have possibly convinced yourself otherwise!" He placed his hand gently under my chin and brought my face up so that my eyes met his. "We are a team, Alison Hart Burnett. What we do now and forever...we do together."  
  
And so we ended up here, at his parent's home once again. We spent that entire day packing up the pickup he had rented and trying to get the cars loaded onto the long metal trailer. My poor little Porsche was filled to bursting with books...even the driver's seat...while the back of the truck was piled high with boxes and army duffel bags...all of which are now stacked practically to the ceiling in this little room.  
  
That evening, we headed en mass to the 'farewell' bash. The party was sad but fun, as Hawk had pulled out all the stops...booking up one of our favorite local hangouts and even bringing in a live band. Everyone was there, from the original Joes to those that had only been with us for a few short months.   
  
We talked, we danced...we sang. Well...I sang at least...stupid Jinx and her bloody ideas. She is just lucky I was a little drunk (not drunk enough to do ABBA as was suggested quite noisily around the bar...thank god) or it never would have happened. Well, ok, maybe it would have. I did once tell Dash he would have to do something pretty amazing for me to sing for him...and I believe he has kept his part of the bargain...   
  
...and the look on his face as I grabbed Wild Bill's guitar and took the stage! Let's just say it was worth every note!  
  
He was wonderful and attentive most of the night. Usually in public he is either prancing around like a peacock (not to say he didn't do some strutting around...that, my friend, is inevitable) or is slightly distant, lest someone complain about Hawk's lax enforcement of the rules.  
  
That night though, he was all mine.   
  
"Flint...don't you think you should tone it down a bit. Not that I am complaining, but Hawk is eyeing us and..."  
  
"Dashiell...its Dash now, Allie. No more Flint, no more Joe...no more rules and regulations. For the first time since we met there is NOTHING standing between us." He kissed me softly on the lips and winked, "...and don't worry about the General, he's just jealous..."  
  
"Jealous of us?"  
  
"No...of me! I am one good-looking, intelligent, dashing, woman-magnet of a soldier..."  
  
Ugh! Some things NEVER change.  
  
Of course, after the excessive wonderful-ness of the day, I guess I should have expected at least one hiccup. I don't care what he says...he IS still 'Flint' through and through. Not surprisingly, a rather large incident involved Ace and an innocent hug goodbye. Mind you, he calmed down quickly enough after I reamed him out.   
  
Sigh*  
  
Despite his little outburst we managed to have a great time...albeit a bittersweet one. It's amazing; I have spent almost a decade with these men and women...living at close quarters, fighting in desperate, bloody battles side by side. We have seen the best of each other and the worst of each other...we know one another almost as well as we know our own families...yet after tonight most of us will go our separate ways.  
  
I know over time we will drift apart. It is inevitable, isn't it? Our lives carrying us off in different directions? No matter what happens though, we will always share this common history...this deep bond. No matter where we go, in our hearts we will always be Joes.  
  
Some will keep in touch...Marvin and Dash, for instance, who have been close since before GIJOE and will probably always be so despite the fact our resident gourmet is hanging up his gun and donning a chef's hat. Conrad will be around as well, that is if Dash doesn't find out I agreed to do some work for him on the side. The how and why of my decision is a tale for another day, but know that I haven't told Flint. He will blow a gasket when he finds out...if he finds out.  
  
"Oh what a tangled web..."   
  
As for myself, I will certainly stay close to Courtney and Shana...  
  
Shana...  
  
Why do I keep thinking about her? Here I am enjoying this fantastic turn in my life and my red headed 'older sister' keeps popping to mind.  
  
I suppose I am worried about her, is all...  
  
There is no question in my mind that Snakes loves her, and that she loves him. I envy the intensity of their feelings for each other, the depth of their bond. That said there is something very wrong between them and has been for a good year now. I can't quite put my finger on it...but its there, and it's growing like a cancer. That night, the whole time she was going on about their plans together Snakes was staring at the ceiling. It was as though only his physical self was in the bar with us...while his mind was somewhere far away.  
  
I mentioned my concern to her, and as usual she dismissed me with a careless wave of her hand.  
  
"We will work things out...we always do. He has been through a lot..."  
  
Yes...he has. He has been to hell and back, and carrys the scars to prove it. Nevertheless, I sometimes wonder if Snakes is doing right by Shana. Does he know how much he hurts her every time he turns away to battle his demons alone? She hides it from him...from everyone...but its there deep inside, festering...and despite her strength, every so often she breaks. Every so often I find her lying quietly in her room...silent tears wetting her pillow.   
  
I guess she and I are more similar than we care to admit. I like to think I am the stronger, but then again I break down as well...and certainly more often and more vocally than she.   
  
Drama background, what can I say?   
  
Speaking of drama, it will interest you to know I got a letter in the mail from a friend of mine who works for the Royal Shakespeare Company. Apparently, they are beginning to dabble in the big screen, following Kenneth Brannaugh's example that Shakespeare CAN appeal to the masses. The man's Henry V was brilliant!  
  
In any case, the company is planning to do a movie adaptation of King Lear which will begin filming this winter, and the lead actor...Derek Jacobi...has asked for ME to play the role of Cordelia. ME! Sir Derek bloody Jacobi asked for ME!  
  
Well...maybe not by name...I think his exact words were 'get me the girl who played Ophelia that summer in Ireland'...but still, he remembered me!  
  
Dash is thrilled, and I am as well, although I haven't yet made up my mind if this is really what I want to do with my life. Regardless, I will be auditioning while we are in London next week.  
  
Anyhow, I can hear Dash calling me from downstairs. Jeez, keep your beret on. I'm coming.   
  
Well, I suppose this is the end. As this part of my life comes to a close, so am I putting aside my journal. Who would have known Psych's pet project would become such a novel? However, now it is time to turn the page so to speak.   
  
Into a box you go...  
  
Maybe one day I will find it in the attic, stuffed in some musty old box and crammed in a corner. Will I read these pages and wonder at my naiveté? My strength? My willfulness? My fear? Will I marvel at the things I accomplished? The things I survived?  
  
Will my children read these pages and learn about their mother and the interesting life she led before becoming 'boring old ma'? Will their children?  
  
Who can tell? The only thing I know for certain is that I will always look back at my time with GIJOE with fondness.   
  
Farewell Lady Jaye...   
  
********************************************************************************  
  
Bard's Note:   
  
That's all she wrote folks! Finally, Lady Jaye's Journal is done. Do you realize I started this thing in March! Wow...  
  
Anyhow...just wanted to say thank you for all the nice reviews and support. This thing was a monster to put together and I can't tell you how happy I am that people read and enjoyed it. I certainly loved writing it.  
  
If I have enough energy and Josh gives me enough material to work with, stay tuned for Lady Jaye's Journal: Reinstated. It might be a while though, and I am sure you are sick of this already ;-). In the meantime, I still need to bring Flint's Journal up to date. I have to tell you, being a woman and trying to write a man's diary is hard stuff! Funny thing is, I think I like writing Mr. "tall dark and awesome" more than LJ. Go figure.  
  
I'm babbling. Sorry...it's late and I just wanted to thank everyone for the reviews and constructive feedback. I can't tell you how much I appreciate it.  
  
Jen 


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